


Events and Horizons

by casey270



Series: Events and Horizons [1]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, blood and gore all over the place, non-zombie zombie-type post apocalyptic world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-13
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:10:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casey270/pseuds/casey270
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world turned upside down by man made changes, Adam and Tommy have to fight their way through government and corporate plans as well as non-zombies in order to find a life worth living</p>
            </blockquote>





	Events and Horizons

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the third round of the Lambliff Big Bang. Many thanks to the wonderful new mods who came in and kept this going. <333
> 
> link to the artwork by the ever-amazing va_bites [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1131648) & [lj](http://va-bites.livejournal.com/12907.html)
> 
> and many, many thanks to @SnowStormSkies for holding my hand & being a beta & a pre-reader & a coach, all in one

Act 1

It doesn’t end with a roar or a whimper. Tommy’s really fucking disappointed with that. Instead, it ends with a government edict - a god damned law, for christ’s sake. They hear it on the radio, on TV, broadcast from every loudspeaker across the city.

Seems like the whispered reports of a bioterrorist attack that the news anchors and politicians have been calling just another conspiracy theory were right after all. The germ that had a seventy-five percent kill rate was an actual thing, and it’d been developed in some little godforsaken country that he might have recognized the name of if he’d paid any kind of attention in geography, or world history, or whatever the hell class taught shit like that. 

But the governments knew it was genuine all along. They knew about it for months, and kept telling everyone it wasn’t real, that everyone was safe. 

Fucking lying assholes.

And the most un-fucking-believable thing is that they might have been safe - or safer, anyway - if the governments of the world had stayed out of it. But they hadn’t. They’d been preparing for it for longer than they’d been denying the fucking germ even existed, the bastards. They knew about it long enough in advance to have a vaccine ready. Almost ready, he reminds himself. 

Because the vaccine wasn’t tested. Or not tested enough, or long enough, or some shit like that, because it has side effects. Big, fucked up side effects that no one warned them about. All they heard was that ninety-eight percent of the people who got the vaccine developed an immunity to the original bug within twenty-four hours. 

Ninety-eight percent sounded like a big time win, right? 

That’s how they got everyone to go get the vaccine, by repeating that ninety-eight percent over and over. Even the president - Barack Fucking Obama - had been on every television station, on the radio, and on posters tacked to every wall or pole in town, telling them all that it was under control. That calm, trustworthy face was everywhere he looked for weeks, telling them all that he was there, ready to save ninety-eight percent of them from the bloated tongues and swollen necks of the dreaded man-made war germ.

So he’d lined up with his mom and dad and sister and gotten his shot. He’d been in the first wave to be vaccinated. It wasn’t until later that he found out that he was in the thirty-two percent of those vaccinated who weren’t hit by the side effects. His family hadn’t been so lucky. Neither was the President, apparently, because the last time Tommy saw him on TV, the time when all people who weren’t changed were hidden so deep underground that it was hard to get reception, he was telling the country not to panic while he calmly munched on the fingers of his screaming press secretary.

That side effect they forgot to mention? Yeah, it gave people a taste for human flesh. It wasn’t like some damn zombie apocalypse either. Everybody looked the same. There was no slow walking shit that might have been used to maybe help people to get away.

No, anyone on the street could be one of the changed people. If anything, the new people were a little stronger, a little faster, and a shit ton more hungry than normal people. And if they couldn’t find their preferred food source they didn’t starve like they fucking should. They just got hungrier and more determined. 

The changes don’t come on people right away and not always all at once. It takes a few weeks for anything to happen - weeks that make it easy for the people in charge to muddy the trail back to the cause. Or maybe they just don’t want to admit how god damned badly they fucked up. 

Whatever, Tommy gets his shot like the good little American he is - the president asked him so nicely to do it, after all - and takes his official certificate that declares him properly inoculated and approved to go back to school. The public service announcement that’s playing when they leave tells them that they’re all safe and sound now, and there’s nothing left to worry about.

Like fuck, there isn’t.

It’s fifteen days after the first people were vaccinated that bad things start happening. Really fucked up things. Like so fucked up that at first he thinks the school is being punk’d or some shit, because things like this don’t fucking happen in real life. But they do now, because the world’s a changed place, and real life got mixed up with reel life somewhere along the way.

Anyway, the story that Tommy hears is that Steve Abrams walked into algebra a little early and caught Mr. Peters, the teacher, munching on Patty Dunhill, and it wasn’t in a good way. Except the rumor mill embellishes it a little - at least Tommy hopes to hell that it’s an embellishment - and when he hears the story, it includes a look of ecstasy or rapture on Mr. Peters face as he finished off Patty’s thigh. 

There are police cars and ambulances there before the story makes the rounds, and the whole school is on lockdown for about half an hour. Funny how the story spreads even though they’re all supposed to be shut away in contained classrooms, but it does. By the time the announcement comes that school is cancelled for the rest of the day and the next one, for good measure, everyone’s heard the B-grade horror movie account of what happened.

Tommy figures that Patty was using whatever she could to bump her grade up to get that scholarship she wanted, even doing the nasty with Mr. Peters, and things got out of hand. He really doesn’t give a fuck. Today’s Thursday, so he’s suddenly got a long weekend to take advantage of, and he’s already making plans to meet the guys at the old abandoned warehouse that serves as an unofficial, underage club for the high school crowd. They’ve got this song that they’ve been working on that’s hard and fast and has this cool, blue undertone, and Tommy knows it’s gonna be big enough on the circuit to get them noticed. 

He hopes to hell it is, because he can’t stand the thought of college next year.

Tommy’s never been what anyone would call a good student. It’s not that he doesn’t want to learn. He’s learned plenty. Mostly, he’s learned that the structure and confines of school aren’t for him. He can’t sit still, he can’t stay focused, and he sure as hell can’t be the perfect little sponge the system wants him to be, soaking up whatever they throw at him without questioning any of it. He knows that if he’s ever gonna make the kind of life he wants for himself, it won’t be by failing college classes. 

He’s a little preoccupied with going over the song in his mind when he walks into the house, but there’s a tricky part in the bridge that his fingers always try to fumble, and he’s trying to work out why. He does notice his mom and Mrs. Lewis, the neighbor, sitting at the table in the kitchen. Nothing unusual about that. Mrs. Lewis usually shows up two or three times a week for coffee and a chance to bitch about Mr. Lewis. 

What is unusual is the way Tommy’s mom looks up at him when he comes in and says, “There’s my boy. My sweet, sweet boy.” 

The words hit Tommy like a bucket of ice water to the face, and it’s not so much the words themselves, even though Tommy’s mom doesn’t fucking talk to him like that. Never has, not even when he was little, when sweet boy might have actually worked as a description. 

No, what sets off every nerve in Tommy’s body is the way his mom looks at him when she says it. There’s some kind of fucked up intensity in her eyes that he doesn’t understand, but he’s glad when she refocuses on the neighbor lady, because Tommy swears he would have pissed his pants right there in the kitchen if she’d looked at him in that _hungry_ way for even one more second.

He doesn’t let himself think about it as he runs up the stairs to his room. He thinks it’s some self preservation thing going on in his brain, because no one should ever feel that kind of cold terror when their own mother looks at them. Maybe the vaccine didn’t really work on him and he’s getting sick after all, and all his instincts are fucked up. That would be just his luck, wouldn’t it? To make it through the plague that was supposed to end the world, only to be a late bloomer as far as the germ of doom was concerned.

The door to his room swings open a little harder and faster than it should when Tommy pushes it. He winces when it slams back into the wall behind it. There’s a permanent indent from the doorknob in the drywall, and he promised his dad he’d be more careful. He should just go out and buy a doorstop, but whatever money he gets goes to music, in one way or another. Always has, and probably always will. 

Changing into clothes that are more suitable for playing with his band - even if they’re just a different version of the basic black jeans and tee that he wore to school - Tommy grabs his guitar case and a few extra things before he thinks he’s got everything he needs. He just bought a whole new set of strings for his acoustic, and even if he doesn’t play it that much anymore, he likes to keep it sounding nice. He’s been leaving it at the warehouse, so he has it handy when he needs it. On impulse, he picks up his harmonica and drops it in his pocket. He loves the way he can make that harp sing and cry when he’s really feeling it, and with nothing on the schedule for the next three days, he’s sure he’ll be feeling it plenty.

He thinks he’s got enough to see him through until he comes home Sunday night. He doesn’t think his parents will have a problem with him being gone that long. He’s done it plenty of times before, and as long as he stays out of jail and doesn’t fuck up his schooling, they’re pretty cool with it. Besides, he’s still a little freaked over that vibe thing he got from his mom. That was some seriously scary shit. He should probably go a little easier on the horror movies, but not today. Today he’s just gonna go find his friends and make some music.

Tommy’s already out the door to his room and pulling it closed when he hears a noise coming from his sister’s room. They share a bathroom that connects their rooms, and neither one of them keeps the doors all the way shut unless it’s in use. He has to listen a second before he recognizes what the sound is and why it stops him cold in his tracks. 

Lisa’s crying. Lisa never cries. Well, practically never. She cried a lot when their grandma died, and that one time when she broke up with guy she’d been dating for over a year. Those times she’d needed Tommy to talk to and help her work through her feelings. That’s why Tommy can’t just walk away from that sound now. 

He sets his things down on his bed and walks through the bathroom to the door on Lisa’s side. Something in the back of his brain is trying to tell him that he really doesn’t have time for this shit, but he can’t leave her when she sounds so needy. The sounds she’s making are worse than any of the other times Tommy’s heard her cry. It’s like she’s trying to keep it all inside, but it’s just too big. It’s the most pitiful thing Tommy’s ever heard.

He knocks on the door. It’s more of a tap, because he doesn’t want to startle her. He doesn’t wait for her to invite him in, though, but maybe he should have. When he walks in her room, he sees his sister huddled in the corner, and he could swear that she’s got blood and all fucking kinds of gore on her face, like she’d buried her face in raw meat and just started chewing. It takes a few seconds, but Tommy recognizes the glistening white thing in her hands as a bone that’s been picked clean.

Lisa looks up at him, and Tommy can see all the sadness in the world in her eyes. She opens her mouth to say something, maybe to try and justify whatever the hell’s going on, but before she gets the words to form, a scream makes its way up from downstairs. Tommy’s head snaps around in the direction of the sound, and he hears Lisa whisper, “You should leave, Tommy. You should leave and never come back.” He’d question things, but his mind is telling him that this can’t be happening, and if it is, he needs to see who’s screaming downstairs and why.

He doesn’t think to pick up his guitars or his backpack. He runs down the stairs, skipping over the last three or four in one jump and comes to a screeching halt. He can tell now that it’s Mrs Lewis who’s screaming, and he doesn’t have to wonder why. He can see through to doorway of the kitchen. He can see his mom’s teeth in Mrs Lewis’ shoulder, tearing a big hunk of muscle out while the nice, but sometimes bitchy, neighbor lady sits there, too far gone into the unreality of the situation to even try and fight. 

Tommy’s frozen in place, too. Too stunned to move or speak or even fucking blink. He thinks that maybe he should do something, but what the fuck is he supposed to do? There’s not exactly a code of etiquette for making your mom quit eating the neighbor, is there? He’d probably still be standing there with his mouth open if his mom didn’t look up and say, nice as you please, “Mrs. Lewis is staying for dinner tonight, baby. Are you joining her for dessert, my sweet, sweet boy?”

That breaks Tommy’s stasis like nothing else could. Even though he knows this can’t be real, he knows it is by the way Mrs. Lewis’s eyes roll back at the same time she stops screaming. Her eyes glaze over, like looking at nothing is better than facing what’s happening to her, and Tommy can’t blame her. He turns to make a run right back up the stairs to the safety of his room, but Lisa’s standing at the top of the stairs, and she’s wearing that same fucked up, hungry look his mom had when he came home. There’s a sadness on her face too, a look of resignation mixed with what he can only think of as mourning. 

“Run, Tommy.” There might be a tear shining in the corner of her eye, or he might just be hoping there is. “Run away from us before it’s too late.”

Tommy leaves his whole life behind and runs as fast as he can out the door and down the street. There’s no fucking way in hell he’s gonna try to get back up to his room to get his shit. If this is some damn nightmare, he’ll eventually wake up. And if it’s not? If the nightmare he just went through is real? Well, then he’s sure as shit not going back into it. At least not willingly.

~*~

When he can’t run anymore, when his breath and his legs decide to give up on him at the same time, Tommy sits down right where he is. It takes a few seconds to clear his mind enough to figure out where it is that he is, but eventually he can see past the blood and horror that are still living in his mind to recognize that he’s not far from the old warehouse, the very place he was planning on spending his time this weekend.

It takes him a few tries to get back up. His legs don’t want to listen to what he’s trying to tell them. The exhaustion that hit him took every fucking bit of his energy and wrapped it up behind a blanket of denial that’s all that’s keeping him from having to admit to himself that what he saw in his own home was real. 

He can’t make himself go any further even when the kid comes up to him.

The kid, the boy, can’t be more than five or six, maybe younger if he’s big for his age. He looks at Tommy with sadness overlayed with a strange level of intensity showing all over his little face and says, “I’m hungry. Moma’s not waking up anymore, and she’s all cold. Can you help me? Please?”

Tommy’s mind sees Mrs. Lewis again, slumped back against the bloody chair in his mom’s kitchen. The Lewises had kids, he thinks. Maybe not as young as this boy, but Mrs. Lewis is probably getting pretty damn cold by now, and her kids are more than likely hungry. Remembering that it was his mom feasting on Mrs. Lewis in the sunny, homey kitchen back home makes Tommy feel responsible for this boy in some fucked up way. He’s sure as hell not gonna go back and gather up the Lewis kids, but maybe he can make up for it by helping this one.

Besides, the kid looks kind of familiar. Tommy thinks it might be Spencer’s little brother. Spencer’s been hanging around the band for the last few months. He thinks Spencer wants his place on guitar, but it’s not gonna happen. They might be some little high school band now, but Tommy thinks they’re damn good, and he’s prepared to fight with everything he has to keep his place. They play for free beer when they can get it at the warehouse every weekend, but Tommy knows that with the right connections, they’ve got as good a shot of making it big as anyone out there.

Spencer’s brought his kid brother to a couple of practices when he had to babysit and couldn’t get out of it. Tommy always felt sorry for the boy, stuck in a corner by himself while his big brother threatened him if he didn’t keep quiet and stay out of the way. It just never seemed like the kid smiled or had any fun.

And the boy sure as hell doesn’t look like he’s been having much fun today. He’s dirty and messy and _needy_ in a way Tommy can’t define. He’s out here all by himself, and Tommy doesn’t think it’s safe to leave him on his own.

“Sure, kid, come on. I’m looking to meet up with friends, maybe even your brother.” Tommy holds his arm out, beckoning the boy closer. “We’ll look for him together, okay?”

The look of relief that shows on the kid’s face as he moves right in next to Tommy touches his heart for a second. It’s long enough for Tommy to feel a little normal. Human contact seems to be one of the things he needs right about now to give him a little spark of hope. Maybe he didn’t see exactly what he thought he saw back home. He puts his arm around the boy’s shoulder and starts walking, silently telling himself that he has to be wrong about what he thinks happened in his mom’s kitchen.

They haven’t taken more than five steps when Tommy feels the kid pressing his little face in close to Tommy’s side, probably looking for his own safe place. Something’s fucked all the way up in the world around them, but Tommy hasn’t been able to stop and think and work out what it is yet. Maybe if he can get to the warehouse, he can figure out what’s going on. Maybe if he can find a quiet, safe place, he can find Spencer. Spencer needs to be the one to take care of his little brother, make the world make sense for him again. It makes Tommy feel strong and warm and glad that he can help the boy now, though. Right up until he feels the hot, wet pain rip through his side. 

Tommy can’t believe this shit’s happening, but when he looks down there’s a bloody hole in his shirt, and he’s pretty sure he’s the one doing the bleeding. Plus, the kid’s chewing - fucking chewing, like it’s dinner time and Tommy’s the main course. 

He yells and pushes the kid away harder than necessary, but not as hard as he’d like to. He’d like to punch the little fucker’s face, but he’s still a kid, and he’s still Spencer’s little brother. The boy ends up with his ass on the ground, and Tommy has a second to check and see where the blood’s coming from. There’s a chunk of skin and maybe some muscle gone, but it doesn’t look too bad. It’s not like it’s life threatening or anything. Tommy thinks it’s bleeding like a bitch, though, and looking at it and poking it are making him feel a little nauseous and lightheaded.

He knows he should cut his losses and get to the warehouse as fast as fucking possible, but some primitive part of his brain is telling him to lash out at what hurt him. He has to fight the urge to go over and stomp the kid into next week. In the end, it’s hearing the kid say, “Sorry, I was just so hungry, and you’re warm, and it felt so good, and you’re a friend of my brother’s, so you’re not a stranger danger,” that makes Tommy run from what’s happening here. There’s no way he can hurt this kid or any other.

~*~

He hears things on his way to what he hopes is safety. He even sees some things, like people he’s known and trusted all his life covered in bloody messes that he assumes used to be other people he might have known. He feels like a coward for not stopping when he hears screams coming from Lisa Granger’s house. He doesn’t know if it’s Lisa screaming or not, but he doesn’t think he’d find the same person he used to ride bikes with if he did stop to check.

Tommy tries to block everything out and keep his eyes and his mind focused on getting where he wants to be. It’s not easy, and progress is slow. Every time he hears people, he ducks for cover. It’s impossible to tell who’s looking for a haven from the crazy, and who’s looking for an appatizer. 

He’s only covered about half the distance between where he ran into the kid and the warehouse, and it’s full on dark, when he hears a sound from the bushes he’s passing. At first, he thinks it’s a cat, but when he listens closer, he hears the hitches and small sobs of someone trying to be quiet but past the point of having total success with it.

He’s more than just a little cautious when he pushes the branches back to see who - or maybe what - is hiding in there. He hasn’t had time to forget Spencer’s little brother and how he’d been stupid enough to let his guard down. Whatever the fuck’s going on here, it doesn’t change how people look - just how they act and think.

Tommy recognizes the girl he sees hiding there. It’s Megan Stevens, and she’s in his Lit class. Or was in his Lit class. He doesn’t think he’s gonna be going back to school Monday, or ever again. Megan’s one of the self proclaimed power people, or that’s how Tommy thinks of them. The clique. The ones who think they run the school. He’s never had much use for them, and by the way she’s cowering in the shrub, he doesn’t think he’ll have much use for Megan now.

He can’t just leave her out here, though. She looks like she’s too scared to do anything, even fight off Spencer’s little brother if the kid finds his way to her. She’s a sitting duck, a deer in the headlights, a possum trying to play dead. There’s no fucking way she can take care of herself. She might make it through the night, hiding in the bushes, but Tommy has no idea how long the world’s gonna stay crazy.

He thinks it might be a long fucking time.

Reaching his hand out to Megan, Tommy says, “Come on. We have to find somewhere safe.” He’s not feeling much in the way of patience, and when she backs further into the bush he wants to reach in a yank her out, but he thinks she’s likely to scream if he does that. Screaming would only call attention to them, and attention is something he doesn’t want.

Tommy wants to find a way to let her know that he _knows_ , that he’s seen and felt the edges of hell today, too. But how can he find words for something that’s beyond his mind’s ability to accept as truth, even though he lived through it? How can describing how his own mother wanted to serve him up on a platter make things any better? How can telling her that Spencer’s kid brother is a little monster, roaming these same streets, make her feel safer?

He’s about to just say fuck the world and climb into the shrub with her when he sees her looking at his side. “You’re bleeding. Are you hurt?”

Tommy wants to tell her that it’s nothing - nothing important anyway. Finding somewhere safe is more important right this minute. But Megan’s coming out of her hiding place, and he doesn’t want to scare her right back in. He lets her inspect the wound on his side, knowing that actively taking care of whatever small wrongs she can is the only thing keeping Megan from pulling away from him again.

He wants to get her moving without spooking her, so he uses two fingers under her chin to gently raise her head so she’s looking him in the eye. He’s not above using whatever he can to get somewhere where he can at least try to defend himself, including playing needy patient to Megan’s nursemaid, because this is one fucked up night, so he hisses on an indrawn breath and lets his eyes flutter shut for a second before he says, “Let’s get moving, okay? There’s a first aid kit at the warehouse. You can help me take care of this thing there.”

He thinks he should feel guilty about playing her that way, but he doesn’t because it gets her attention. It gives her a purpose and breaks her stasis. It also kickstarts her brain, apparently. “That looks like a...Well, it looks like something bit you.”

“Not something - someone. Some kid.” Tommy doesn’t notice the hard look that crosses Megan’s face. He’s too busy trying to decide the quickest way to the warehouse. But the distrust and suspicion flash bright and quick through her eyes, mirroring what she might be thinking. 

Tommy doesn’t even wonder about the path their conversation takes after that. If there’s anyone who’s not trying to figure out what the fuck’s happening tonight, they’re probably so far out and removed from anyone else that they haven’t seen any of the horrors.

“They’re zombies, aren’t they?” Megan asks, without any preamble. 

“They’re not zombies. Zombies are dead; well, undead, anyway. These fuckers aren’t dead.”

“But they eat people. Only zombies eat people,” Megan insists. 

“Cannibals eat people, too. And sometimes just regular people eat other people when they have to. You know, like when a plane crashes.” Tommy knows he’s rambling, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t notice that Megan’s putting a little more distance between them the more they talk, either. He’s too consumed with finding someplace safe. 

He knows there’s no guarantee that the warehouse is safe. It’s just that it’s out of the way and has solid walls and doors that can be shut. Plus, they’ve got it set up with electricity and sound and wifi, and he thinks they can hide out there for the night at least, maybe try to pick up a news broadcast or something that can explain what the fuck’s going on. 

No matter what he’s seen or lived through today, Tommy’s mind refuses to believe that things will still be crazy by morning. It has to be some fucked up result of something people were all exposed to. Maybe the new class of people munchers is suffering from a manmade eating disorder, or maybe he’s stuck in a nightmare, dreaming this whole damn mess. If it’s the later, he’ll wake up in the morning, and everything will be back to factory settings. If it’s the former, it might take awhile, but he’s sure scientists or medical researchers or who the fuck ever would be responsible for something like this are working on finding a cure. They should be able to find something on TV or the radio or something. 

Whatever, he’s pinning all his expectations on getting to the warehouse being the first step back to life as he knows it.

When they’re within a block of the warehouse, Tommy finally notices that Megan’s acting a little strange. She keeps looking at him, keeping an eye on him instead of looking out for something that might be dangerous. He thinks it’s probably because she’s getting closer to the edge of panic again, and he really wants to get her inside where he can calm her down. Some part of him is even a little sorry that he stopped to help her. She looks like she’s going to be higher maintenance than he has energy for. 

The side door is locked, which Tommy expected. He has a key, though. Everyone in the band has a key. Whoever gets there first for rehearsals is supposed to unlock and get the place fired up and online. He’s a little surprised when his key doesn’t open the door, but if someone else is already there, they probably threw the bolt from the inside. No sense having a safe place if you’re not gonna keep it safe, right?

He pounds on the door as hard as he can. It’s a big place, and they’ve done a lot of work trying to make it soundproof. Getting busted during a show would mean no more band. He knows that unless someone was standing pretty damn close, they wouldn’t hear him knocking.

He’s about to go looking for a window that he can force open or break if he has to, when he hears Shea’s voice asking who’s out there. Shea sounds fierce, like she always does, and Tommy really fucking wants to be in there with her instead of being stuck outside with Megan.

“It’s me. Tommy. I’ve got Megan Stevens with me. Let us in.” He doesn’t want to yell any more than he has to. He thinks he’s already made more than enough noise by pounding on the door. If there are any of the people eaters around, he doesn’t want to call any more attention to them than he already has. 

“The Tommy I know doesn’t hang with cheerleaders. Who are you really, and why you got that high priced skank with you?”

Tommy sees Megan flinch, and he actually feels sorry for her. A little bit, anyway. “Come on, Shea. Just open the fucking door, okay?” He uses a quieter voice to tell Megan, “She doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that you haven’t exactly been friendly with the people who’re usually here.” He’s not even sure why he’s trying to be nice to her. He thinks it’s just because people are supposed to be nice and help each other. That’s something his mom always said, but his mom didn’t look like she was helping Mrs. Lewis much the last time he saw her.

Tommy hears the bolt sliding open on the other side, and when the door opens he sees five or six people on the other side, Spencer included, the dickwad. Tommy wants to punch him right in his smug little face and ask why he wasn’t around to keep an eye on his own little brother, but before he can, Megan pushes past him and starts making all kinds of noise. It takes Tommy by surprise as much as it does anyone else, and it takes him a few seconds to actually focus on what she’s saying. 

“Grab him or shoot him or something. He’s one of them.”

“What the fuck, Megan? I saved your ass out there.” Tommy can’t believe what’s going on, but he can’t deny the fear in Megan’s eyes either. It’s real, and it’s genuine, and it’s him that she’s afraid of. And he has no fucking idea why.

The others see Megan’s fear as genuine, too, and before anything can be straightened out, the people Tommy thought were his friends are holding his arms behind his back, and Spencer, being the fuckwad that he is, is pointing a gun right at Tommy. 

“Always knew there was something untrustworthy about you, Ratliff,” Spencer says. “What? Were you bringing her here to take a bite out of her in private? Didn’t want to share your pretty little girl with any of the other zombie freaks out there?”

Judging by the sneer on Spencer’s face, and the look of absolute fucking glee in his eyes, Tommy doesn’t think there’s much of a chance of getting out of this alive, and that shit’s just not right. This was supposed to be his safe place. This was where he wanted to be to get away from the weird shit that his brain can’t accept. 

It’s Shea that steps in and does what’s right before Spencer has a chance to fire the gun. “What’re you doing, numbnuts? This is Tommy. Why you gonna take some stuck up, stranger bitch’s word that he’s a zombie?”

Tommy’s so grateful for Shea’s words that he actually tries to move to hug her. The hands that are still holding his arms aren’t what brings him up short, though. It’s the look of fear and mistrust he sees on Shea’s face that bothers him the most. The fact that one of his oldest and closest friends is questioning him because of some dumbass, ungrounded accusation really hits him hard, even though he thinks he’d probably do the same thing if he were in their place.

What he really wants to know, though, is why Megan suddenly thinks he’s a zombie. He knows she started acting weird as hell on the way here, but he can’t really pinpoint when it began or what caused it. He thinks he can either waste a lot of time trying to figure it out, or he can ask her. He chooses the latter. 

“Why the fuck do you think I’m a zombie?” Tommy’s never been much for subtlety, and the gun that’s still pointed at him isn’t helping much.

“Because one of them bit you. You said so yourself.” Megan’s voice is really starting to get on Tommy’s last nerve, especially when she’s talking shit. “That’s how zombies make new zombies, isn’t it? By biting them, I mean.”

Now it all makes sense. He can see the logic trail her mind took, even if it isn’t particularly logical. He can fix this. All he needs if for them to listen to him. But the way he laughs at Megan and the condescending tone he uses might not be the best way to make them actually hear what he’s saying. Whatever. Tommy never claimed to be a nice guy.

“You’re not actually that fucking dumb, are you?” Tommy asks before he can stop himself. “The people out there aren’t zombies. Zombies are make believe, and this isn’t some damn horror movie. This shit is real, or at least I think it is. I’m hoping like hell that it’s some damn dream. But if it’s not, the people out there are still real, live people. They’re not undead, and I don’t think they all got bit by some super-zombie at the same time, do you?”

Even Shea looks at him like he’s talking nonsense, and Tommy yells in frustration before he makes himself go back and explain what he means. “Yesterday, everybody was normal, life was normal, right?” He looks around, waiting for them to agree. Spencer, the fucker, refuses to, but Tommy couldn’t give any less of a fuck about him if he tried. “Today, people start changing all around us, within a matter of minutes or hours or whatever. They were normal at breakfast, but flesh-eaters by afternoon.”

“Stop saying shit that doesn’t mean shit,” Spencer says. “You’re just trying to talk us out of popping your brains out the back of your head with a bullet.” 

“Yeah, because I’m not a fucking zombie!” Tommy has to take a second to breathe because Spencer has the damn gun right in his face again, and Tommy knows that the jackhole really wants to pull the trigger. Somewhere along the line, without Tommy noticing it, the envy Spencer feels for him has turned into real hatred, and that’s a dangerous thing. 

“If it’s something that’s spread by biting, and all those people out there - and I bet there are hundreds, at least - turned into people eaters at the same time, it would mean they were all bitten at the same time.” Tommy can see some understanding crossing the faces in front of him. “It would mean there was some kind of magical, zombie Santa Claus that went around biting them all instead of leaving presents while they were sleeping.”

“It doesn’t matter what happened to them,” Megan says, and Tommy wishes he’d never stopped to help her. “You got bit by one of them. We don’t know if whatever changed them, whatever infected them, can be passed that way, so you’re not safe.”

Tommy wants to stomp his feet and scream, but he has to admit that what she’s saying makes sense. If the tables were turned, if it were one of the others in this situation, he’d damn well be suspicious. Instead of throwing a fit, he lets go of the tightness in his muscles, pushes back the fight or flight adrenaline that wants to take over his body, and takes a deep breath.

“So, lock me up.”

“What?” Shea’s looking at him like he’s lost his mind, and maybe he has.

“Lock me up. There’re lots of empty storerooms in the back. Lock me in one of them for a few hours and keep an eye on me. Watch me to see if I start changing.” It isn’t the best solution, but it’s the only one Tommy can see that ends with him still being alive. It’s what he would do to any of the others.

Spencer, the jackwagon that he is, decides that locking Tommy up isn’t good enough, so four hours later Tommy’s tired and sore and tied to a chair in one of the damp storerooms. He doesn’t think there’s much of a chance that he’s going to start taking bites out of his friends any time soon, but he can’t fault the others for being careful.

It’s just that he can hear a little of what’s going on outside his jail room, and he’d sure as hell like to know more. He knows that more people are out there. He’s heard knocking and pounding and yelling, and he thinks he can make out a couple dozen different voices talking now. He heard the excitement when someone brought up a news report, but he doesn’t know if it’s on a phone or a laptop or what. He wants to know what’s happening as much as anyone else, and he thinks he’s played along with this long enough.

Besides, he has to take a piss, and he’s tired of holding it.

He starts out nicely. He knows someone’s on the other side of the door, so he asks politely if they’re ready to let him go yet. When there’s no response, he raises the volume. Then he starts stomping his feet. Next he tries rocking the chair, and he’s building up quite a rhythm, but ultimately, he ends up tipping it into the wall.

Something works in his favor though, because he hears the lock turning just before the door flies open to show a very angry looking Spencer standing there.

“What the hell, man. There’s a mirror on the other side of that wall, and it’s ready to fall down, just like everything else in this dump.”

“Couldn’t get your attention any other way, and I have to take a leak.” 

When Spencer just stands there, looking at him with a fucking sneer on his fucking face, Tommy really wants to hit him. But when the abbreviated piece of nothing says, “Maybe you’re just gonna have to piss yourself,” Tommy goes ballistic, yelling and stomping and rocking all at once. He makes enough noise to bring everyone in the warehouse in to see what’s happening. 

Spencer does his best to stand in the middle of the doorway, blocking Toomy from view and contact, but he can’t stop Shea. She’s like a force of fucking nature, and Tommy wants so damn bad to cheer her on. Shea has this air about her: something that attracts people and makes them want to listen to what she has to say. Tommy noticed it the first time he met her. His dad says she’s a natural born leader. 

Shea shoulders right past Spencer, and the asswipe is so dumbfounded that he just stands there with his mouth open, but Tommy can tell he’s pissed as all hell. Shea doesn’t seem to notice, though. Tommy doesn’t think she notices the hate that flashes in Spencer’s eyes, either. She just stands there, hands on her hips while she lectures them both like they’re children, and maybe they’re not far from it.

“This is **not** who we are! We don’t deny people the simplest of dignities just because we don’t know what’s going on. We’re still human, and we treat others the way we want to be treated.” 

It all sounds good, and Tommy’s glad she’s taking up his cause, because he really, really, fucking really has to piss, but he can see that Shea’s made an enemy by stepping into the dung hole of a power struggle that’s always surrounded him and Spencer.

“We don’t know if that piece of shit’s still human, though, now do we?” Spencer asks, and a quiet chorus of agreement can be heard coming from some of the people behind him. 

“And we don’t know that he’s not,” Shea counters. “We don’t have any idea what’s going on or what caused it. We don’t know how it spreads, or even _if_ it spreads. All we know is that Tommy volunteered to let us lock him up, and that shows something.”

“Yeah, it shows he was willing to do anything to get in here. He knew if he was inside, we’d all be sitting ducks, laid out like a buffet for him.” Tommy promises himself that he’s gonna punch Spencer right in his smug face the first chance he gets.

“Spencer, you really are an idiot, aren’t you,” Shea throws back. “There’s a couple dozen people in here as opposed to thousands on the outside. He’s tied up and locked down in here, and he was free out there. Are we some special flavor boost that he can’t find anywhere else or something? Think about it, man.”

Tommy can see that Shea has more support than Spencer, but Spencer’s gang is made up of angry, frightened people. And they have guns. Tommy hadn’t noticed the guns before, except maybe the one Spencer had shoved in his face when he first got there, but a few of them have actual working firearms, and that’s some serious shit right there.

But even Spencer can see that there’s no arguing with Shea’s logic. The girl’s good, and Tommy’s glad as hell she’s on his side. Or maybe she’s just on the side of keeping whatever pieces of humanity intact that she can, and that’s okay too. 

Shea walks right over to Tommy and starts untying him, not paying any attention to Spencer’s muttering about women who think with their cunts, and Tommy wants nothing more than to deck him. Or maybe use one of those guns on him, which is a thought he’s not proud of. He doesn’t want to be the cause of more trouble for Shea, though. He thinks he’s made enough problems for her on this most fucked up night ever, so he sits patiently while she finishes undoing the ropes and cords and whatever the fuck else they used. 

When she’s done, Shea holds her hand out to help him up, and Tommy’s not about to refuse the offer. Sitting still for so long has really made him stiff and tense, and he can feel the needles and pins prickling under his skin as circulation returns to his legs. 

But when he starts walking towards the door, Shea puts a hand on his shoulder, saying, “Not so fast, Tommy. We’re going to be civilized here, but safety still comes first. Pauley and Scott can go with you, watch you and make sure everything’s okay.”

“Sure. They can even come in with me if it makes you feel better, but I’m gonna hold my own dick.”

“Don’t be a smartass, Ratliff,” Shea says. “And come back to the old main office when you’re done. We’ve set up a kind of base there, and we can keep an eye on you and everything else from there.”

Tommy allows himself the pleasure of smirking at Spencer as he walks past, but it’s just a small smirk. He honestly doesn’t want to be the cause of more trouble for Shea, but he thinks her problems with Spencer are just starting.

Tommy’s a good guy while he does his business and makes his way back to the old office, even playing nice with his ‘escorts’. He knows that they’re not as comfortable with him being loose as Shea is, and he even tries to make small talk on the way back to put them at ease.

When he asks about who’s holed up in the factory with them now, he gets a list of almost thirty names. That’s more than he expected. Some of the names he recognizes, and some he doesn’t, and he’s worried about the ones he doesn’t know. Not that he distrusts them just because he doesn’t know them, but because it means that whatever the fuck’s going on out there isn’t a small scale thing. There aren’t that many people who would have thought of coming here to hide out, and having that many here now means that things are pretty damn crazy out there.

It’s when Pauley gets to the name Lucas Bradshaw that both he and Scott go quiet. They even stop walking. “Lucas got here a couple of hours ago,” Scott starts. “He said he tried calling 911 when his dad attacked his mom. They sent a squad car, but the people in it weren’t people anymore.”

“Yeah,” Pauley continues when Scott can’t go on, “he killed a cop. A fucking cop, for christ’s sake. Or what used to be a cop. He was hiding with a baseball bat and knocked one out cold when they were looking for him. He took the guy’s gun and shot him right in the head. Then he took out the other cop and his own dad. It was too late for his mom, though. He said she was dead and half eaten by the time he got to her.”

“I would’ve lost my shit right there,” Scott says, “but not Lucas. He managed to get both cop’s guns and what his dad kept locked up at their house. He showed up here, driving the cop’s car, with pistols, hunting rifles and enough ammunition to make Spencer happy.”

By the time they make it to the old office, Tommy has a pretty good idea about who’s who, but not so much about what’s going on. He’s glad to see a couple of laptops set up, their screens showing local and national news sites. There are a few people watching on their phones, too. It feels good to have a connection to the outside world, even if the edges of chaos can be seen out there.

He notices a knot of people discussing something, and Shea’s right in the thick of it. He takes two steps towards the group before Scott grabs his arm, preventing him from going any further.

“Shea, whattaya want us to do with him?” 

“Put him at the little desk, the one over in the corner. Maybe he can get that old shortwave thing up and going,” Shea answers before turning back to argue with Spencer some more. Tommy can see the stress of the night working its way across Shea’s face, and at this second, he wants nothing more than to find a way to make her life a little easier.

But Spencer has other ideas. Or he just wants to be an asshole, as usual. “No way am I gonna turn my back on that infected loser while he’s free to sneak up behind me. He’s at least gotta be tied up.”

Tommy can see that Shea’s winding up to really lay into the numbnuts, so before things get carried away, he says, “ ‘s okay. I don’t mind, Shea. If it makes everyone feel safer, if it makes _you_ feel safer, you can tie me up again. Except, can I have something to drink, first?”

“See, that’s why we can’t do things like this,” Shea says. “We kept Tommy locked up back there for hours with no water, no food, and no contact. I wouldn’t even treat a rabid dog like that.”

“No, you’d shoot it in the head,” Spencer interrupts before Shea can go any further, “and that’s what we need to do to him.”

“You’re an idiot, Spence, but you probably already know that. I bet people have been telling you that all your life.” Tommy sees exhaustion and worry mixed with the stress on Shea’s face now, but there’s stubborn determination there, too. The girl’s a fighter, first and foremost, and Tommy knows that whatever this night throws at her, she’s not gonna give up. 

“Tommy’ll be fine over there. Scott can watch him. Fuck, if it makes you feel better, one of your guard dogs can stand sentry duty, too. You know as well as I do how many times Tommy’s fixed broken amps and soundboards here. If anyone can get that old rig going, Tommy can. We need him, and we need him functioning. End of discussion.”

So Tommy finds himself sitting in a corner of the big office area, fiddling with outdated equipment, watching the dawn of a new day, and maybe a whole new way of life, coming up over the horizon. 

He’s been listening in on what’s going on around him enough to know that whatever’s going wrong here isn’t isolated. It’s not a worldwide pandemic, like the superbug is; it seems to be localized in pockets scattered around the globe. 

He sees a map on one of the news feeds that shows the problem areas, and it looks familiar somehow, but he doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The discussion between Shea and Spencer has been heating up all night, and it picks that minute to explode. They’ve picked up a local news broadcast on one of the smaller access channels, and apparently, the authorities are trying to find some order in the lunacy of the night, or that’s what they’re saying, anyway. They’ve set up protection centers and are providing transportation to them. Anyone who feels unsafe or insecure in their surroundings is supposed to call, and they’ll be taken care of.

Spencer thinks it sounds like a good idea, especially for all the extra people who’ve made their way to the warehouse. Shea thinks they should wait and see how things go first. Tommy can see the logic in both sides. There isn’t enough food for this many people; that’s for damn sure. They’ve already gone through whatever was there, and they’ll have to go out and scavenge by morning. 

But sending people out into the unknown seems wrong too, especially when the councilwoman who started making the announcement was replaced as soon as she started questioning the rescue plan. 

In the end, two people insist on calling. Tommy talks them into arranging to be picked up away from the warehouse. It isn’t easy, because Spencer tries to shoot down everything he says, but Shea gives him a chance to explain his thoughts. 

It just seems like a good idea not to let anyone know where they are. Tommy doesn’t like the idea of giving his location away, especially after hearing Lucas’ story. A pickup away from the warehouse makes the most sense. And they can stay in contact with their phones. It’ll be hard to help the two going into the protection center if anything happens, but they’ll know not to send anyone else if there’s a problem. Lucas even volunteers to drive them to the pickup point, somewhere in the middle of a park on the other side of town. He says it’ll give him a chance to scout things out. So the three of them leave, and Tommy spends the next few hours working on the radio. He’s made some progress by the time Lucas gets back, but it’s finished and working now that the sun’s coming up, and they still haven’t heard from the two who went into protection.

The news reports are still coming in; not as consistently as they were before. The stations seem to be having trouble keeping their feeds going, but that map of the troubled spots keeps flashing on and off. Each time they put it up, there’s a new area added to it, and that familiar thing that’s been tickling the back of Tommy’s brain keeps getting stronger. 

Finally, at about half past seven, when his stomach’s reminding him that he hasn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, it all clicks. His memory sees the world maps with the troubled spots highlighted superimposed with maps and graphs of when and where the superbug inoculations were supposed to be given. 

Tommy’s so excited that he forgets where he is and jumps up to go check his memories against what he can find on one of the laptops. He remembers damn quick when he feels a gun pressed up against his head, though. He stops dead in his tracks and holds his hands up in what he hopes is a placating gesture.

“Fuck. Take it easy, man.” Tommy’s getting more than just a little pissed off at the guy’s _go-ahead, make-my-day_ macho bullshit. He’s tired and hungry and tense, and knowing that he’s probably never going to live to see his nineteenth birthday isn’t helping him keep his aggression under control. 

Shea must see or hear the commotion, because she’s there before things escalate. Unfortunately, Spencer follows her like a yappy little dog, nipping at her heels. When she gets closer, Shea stops and rubs her temples. Tommy can only imagine the headache Spencer’s constant bitching would cause.

“What the fuck’s going on over here?” she asks, having moved past the convention of starting a conversation with niceties long ago. 

Spencer, who never in his life practiced or observed decorum in social situations, jumps in before Tommy can answer. “See, I told you we shoulda shot him right in the beginning. Would have solved a lot of problems.”

“Shut up, shitface. Nobody’s talking to you.” Tommy feels the gun pressing even harder into the back of his head, and he supposes he could have used a little less incendiary approach, but whatever. “And call off your dog before he starts drooling on me, okay? Damn, he’s even more of an ass than you are.”

Tommy tries to shrug away from the gun, but it’s not until he sees Spencer make eye contact with the goon and nod slightly that it’s lowered. He wonders just how much fucking power Spencer has over his little band of armed guards, and the apparent answer scares the shit out of him. 

“I gotta check something out, Shea. The radio’s working now, so there’s still a chance that we can warn some people, but I have to make sure, first. And we have to move fast. The last major rounds of inoculations are supposed to be today.”

“Listen to him,” Spencer says. “He’s not even making sense. The fucker’s brains have probably already turned to shit. If he doesn’t get back in his corner right now, I’ll have one of my boys shoot him where he stands, and if you get in the way, Shea, I’ll have you shot, too.”

Anger flashes through Tommy, and instinct takes over. Before he’s even aware of what he’s doing, he pulls back and swings on Spencer, his fist connecting squarely with the asshole’s temple. Tommy catches a momentary glimpse of Spencer collapsing just as he feels a blinding pain in the back of his head when the barrel of the gun hits him hard enough to make the world go dark.

~*~

When he wakes up, the first thing Tommy realizes is that his brain feels like it’s trying to explode. He’s had headaches before, but this one is in a class by itself. The second thing is that there’s no light coming through the windows. It takes him a minute to order his thought enough to make the connection that that means it’s nighttime, or late evening, anyway.

Somewhere along the way, he lost a day, and something is trying to tell him that that’s a bad thing to happen - a very bad thing. He can’t quite remember why, though, and the more he tries to concentrate on it, the more his head hurts. 

Even trying to get comfortable on this bed that doesn’t quite feel like his makes his head shoot blasts of pain at him, so he keeps as still as possible and lets his mind go blank. He’s not exactly sure when the thoughts and pictures start pushing their way in, but without realizing it, he’s got a thread of a thought, and he follows it back to its source, no matter how much it makes his brain pound.

When he gets to the heart of it, Tommy forgets himself and sits up quick enough to make the ache in his head turn into a stabbing pain, and he yells. The noise catches Shea’s attention, and she’s by his side when he opens his eyes again. Tommy’s vision is still shaky, and trying to focus brings him right to the edge of puking, but he can see well enough to make out the scrape on her face and the bruising around her wrist as she holds her hand out to steady him. It looks like he caused her even more trouble, but Shea’s tough. It looks like she held her own, because he doesn’t see Spencer or any of his boys around.

“Easy, Tommy. You feeling okay? You’ve been out practically all day.”

“Fuck!” Tommy yells, because it’s been one royally fucked day. “What time is it? Never mind. It’s dark out, so it’s late. Probably too late already, but we still gotta try. They were giving those shots out until, like, ten at night here, just to get everyone. We still might be able to stop some people.”

Shea’s looking at him like she thinks his brains ended up scrambled when he got hit, and he kind of wishes they were, because now he knows that he had a chance to save people, a chance to make a difference, and his goddamn temper got in the way. 

“Is this the same shit you were talking about before you hit Spencer? ‘Cause none of us could figure out what you meant then, and I gotta tell you, dude, you’re not making it any easier now.”

“Trust me on this, okay?” Tommy doesn’t know why Shea should trust him since all he’s done lately is cause her grief, but it’s important to him that she _does_ trust him and, more importantly, that she believes him. “Help me up, and point me in the direction of one of the laptops, so I can check on something. It’s all in the maps, and if we target things right, we might just save a few lives. The least we can do is warn people.”

“I think the news has been warning everyone enough to cause a panic, but whatever,” Shea says, helping him up. “And we’re down to one laptop. Spencer took the other one with him when he took off. He said to tell you that you throw a mean punch, and if you ever get tired of being my bitch, you should look him up. He said he’s always got room for fighters.” 

Tommy stops and looks at Shea, but she’s ducking her head, trying to hide her laughter. “How come you never told me you’re my bitch, Tommy Joe? I would have picked out a nice collar for you and everything.”

“Shut up, Shea. I throw a mean punch, remember?”

When they get to the laptop, Megan’s sitting in front of it, and Tommy not too happy about that. “Seems like the bubblehead’s a savant or something when it comes to finding what you need on this thing. Spencer took the good one, but he’s too stupid to know how to use it right. I bet they're hiding out somewhere, watching youtube. Just tell little miss rah-rah what you need, and she’ll find it for you.”

Tommy can see Megan bristling over Shea’s descriptions, but she pulls up the maps of the inoculation schedule. Tommy asks if she can color code it according to dates, with red being the first. Even a mad Megan has no problem with doing it, and soon the world is covered in colors.

Then he asks her to pull up one of the maps from the news broadcasts that shows the areas where people have been changing. This one is a little more difficult to change to what Tommy needs, but Megan manages. She bitches the whole time, but she does it. 

Then he has her display them side by side, and he’s sure he’s right. The patterns and colors seem to match, but having two maps of the world displayed side by side on a laptop screen doesn’t leave a lot of room for details. 

But Megan does some kind of magic trick and cuts the maps down to just the western United states, and then to only southern California. Then she slides the map of the troubled areas over the inoculation schedule, and it’s a perfect match. The changes that happened here yesterday happened in all the same towns that were scheduled for shots the same day they were. And the problems that came up today followed the inoculation schedule for the day after. 

They can all see it now. It’s right the fuck there in front of them. Tommy watches their faces and the looks of confusion and fear mirror what he’s feeling. There’s a tense ball inside his gut that’s trying to force him to rush before it’s too late, but he’s got to get this just right, and he has to make sure they’re all on the same page for it to work.

Tommy checks the original schedule and sees that today was the last day for shots, except for catching up all the rural areas. There are a few small towns around them that were supposed to be inoculated today, but San Diego jumps out at him on the map. If they can get the radio signal to reach that far, they might be able to make some of the people who are late in line stop and think before they get the shot. He doesn’t even know if warning them not to get it is what they should be doing or not. Whoever got the superflu died, and the last time he saw his mom and sister, they looked very much alive. He thinks they’d probably say they’d rather be a live people eater than a dead flu victim.

But if he can reach someone - anyone - and warn them of what comes next, he’ll be fucking happy as hell. He just wished someone had warned him. 

Tommy moves over to the little desk in the corner and gets the radio ready to broadcast. Shea and everyone else finally put it all together when they saw the superimposed maps, and they’re working on a script for broadcasting. Tommy’s not sure how long the old radio will hold up. They might only have one chance to say what they have to say, so they have to be sure it’s clear and exact. 

They start broadcasting, Tommy watching the equipment and someone who’s a theater geek reading the announcement. Megan monitors it on her laptop, and she’s all excited about the radio skip being in. Tommy has no idea what that means, but she explains that it’s the propagation of radio waves reflected or refracted back toward Earth from the ionosphere. When Tommy still looks at her like she’s speaking a foreign language, she tells him that it’s not limited by the curvature of the Earth and can be used to communicate beyond the horizon, at intercontinental distances. He picks out enough to know that they’re gonna be broadcasting a hell of a lot further than they planned on.

The script they came up with takes about ten minutes to read. Tommy figures that if they read it three times an hour, it won’t overheat the old shortwave system. After that, it depends on whether or not anyone’s actually listening. Even if they’re too late to keep people from getting the shot they can help other areas prepare for the changes that are coming.

Maybe things would be different here if they’d known ahead of time. Maybe Mrs. Lewis or Patty Dunhill would still be alive. Or maybe not. 

They manage to get through six cycles of the script before they hear something crash into the door hard enough to rattle the whole building. They hadn’t thought ahead enough to expect the broadcast signal to be traced back to them. And even if they had, not one of them would have believed that anyone would want this message silenced. But that’s what’s happening.

There’s an explosion and screaming and people running and the sharp crack of guns firing, and Tommy’s too stunned to move. His first thought is that somehow, the outside world is here to help them. Some of the people rushing in are in uniform, some aren’t, but they all have guns. Maybe their broadcast called the cavalry to their rescue. He’s about to go down on his knees, with his hands in the air, in what he hopes to whatever heaven or hell that’s out there really is the universal sign of surrender, when he sees one of the girls he never quite got to know get shot in the face. She wasn’t running; she wasn’t fighting. She was standing still, watching, just like he is, and they put a bullet in her brain, and when she’s falling to the floor, one of the invaders catches her just long enough to take a bite out of her neck.

Tommy knows he’s gotta get out of here, and it’s gotta be right the fuck now, and he tries to pull Shea with him as he runs for the door, but somehow one of the old shelving units collapsed on top of her, and even when Tommy keeps calling her name she doesn’t answer. His mind can’t accept that she’s not going to be going anywhere, even with the pool of blood that’s forming and filling around her.

He’s lost in a bubble of unreality in the middle of the chaos and confusion until Megan is beside him, screaming at him to get up and run. They make it out of the building with three others, but there are people with guns on the outside, too. They lose one of their small group to a bullet - Tommy thinks it’s the guy who read the announcement, but he’s not sure - and Pauley’s grazed by a near miss.

The darkness is their only protection. They manage to make it to the edge of a small copse of brush and then into the trees that grow at the edge of town before they stop to catch their breath and assess their damages. Tommy’s surprised that Megan kept up with them, but when he sees how much Pauley’s wound is bleeding, he wants to sit and cry. 

The need to mourn hits him like a physical blow, taking his breath away and bringing him to his knees right there in the middle of the scraggly woods. The knowledge that he’s lost his family and almost all his friends, that the life he had and the one he thought he’d grow into are gone, that the world he knew doesn’t exist anymore, all those things died over the last two days, and all he’s left with is a whiny, bitchy ex cheerleader that he can’t stand, but she’s needy, and she needs him to get her to safety.

It’s enough to pull him back from the edge, and that’s all Tommy needs to get started again. His brain is working now, thinking ahead instead of remembering things that are never going to be there again. He’s making plans and weighing options, and the best path that he can see is to stay out of sight for a while - long enough to see where the world lands after the confusion is gone.

That’s how he spends the next six months - months that should have seen the end of his senior year and a summer job at the guitar store. Instead he hides and scavenges, picking up whatever he can, wherever he can find it. The people in his group grow and change; new faces join, and old friends go off on their own. Over time the number reaches the point that makes constant traveling impractical, so they make camps and stay for a few weeks or months, moving when they start to feel too complacent or when threats seem too close.

Pauley’s wound got infected, and Tommy dislocated a knuckle when he punched a tree in frustration as he watched him die from something that could have easily been taken care of with antibiotics. 

They were joined by a group of twenty-three military regulars, all that were able to escape the local base when the changes hit. They make the whole group feel safer, and supply runs are more successful with guns to help guarantee their safety. Plus they bring the added bonus of a medic, something Tommy wishes to hell they’d had sooner.

There’s even a group of eight kids, all under ten years-old. Anyone who’s reached double digits isn’t exactly afforded the luxury of being considered a child anymore. It’s only the youngest that get a totally free ride. They add extra burdens when it comes to care are feeding, but they bring hope with them, too. Hope for a future.

Tommy spends most of his time wandering alone. The others think he’s some kind of fucking advance scout or some shit, and in a way he is. But mostly he goes off into unknown areas, skirting the places that harbor the changed people, looking for ways for his group to move and finding what they need. He’s good at it, too. He thinks it’s because he doesn’t care anymore.

He lost too many pieces of himself along the way because he lost someone he cared about. Now he keeps himself isolated and numb, and it works for him. If anyone ever asked, he wouldn’t lie. He’d tell them that he isn’t afraid of dying, that it’s living this way that scares the everloving shit out of him.

And the whole time they’re existing on the edge, life is going on as normally as it can in the land of the changed people. There’s still industry and jobs and finance and airplanes and communication and news reports that they tap into when they can. The changed people are keeping the world going on a smaller scale with the limited personnel at their disposal, and Tommy learns that the protection or adjustment camps that were set up at the beginning are nothing more than farms to keep their preferred food source safe. The people are kept there, and parcelled out as needed. 

Some stories even talk about forced breeding, like they’re fucking cattle or something. 

Once the first wave of hunger tore through the changed people, they found they only needed human flesh on a limited basis, but their supply is diminishing, and they’re getting desperate. And more cunning.

Tommy’s not too worried about being captured when he goes out alone, though. He has a gun, and one day he thinks he’ll use it. Not to kill one of the changelings. It scares the fuck out of him, but he’s pretty sure the day he’s lost enough to use it on himself is getting closer all the time.

Act 2

Adam sits and listens to the late night hospital sounds. He doesn’t want to be here. He’d rather be anywhere than sitting beside his mother’s bed, watching her die. There’s nothing brave or heroic or even particularly loving in his vigil. He knows his mom would be uncomfortable with knowing her sons were taking turns, seeing her suffer while she wastes away, but it feels wrong to leave her by herself.

At least the superbug moves fast - the same superbug that the governments insisted didn’t exist until they had the vaccines ready. He and Neil had gone with their dad yesterday to get inoculated against the very germ that’s killing his mom. He still isn’t sure if it’ll work since they’d all been exposed to the virus’ effects already, but it’s the only hope they have, or so the public announcements keep saying.

They’ve heard rumors, though. There are underground broadcasts, and he’d heard one at Jeremy’s house last night, while Neil sat with their mom. Jeremy’s dad had some sort of super radio setup that Adam had always thought of as geeky, but he’s glad as hell that he has access to it now.

Last night’s broadcast had been broken and spotty, but it’d sounded like some nutcase telling them not to get vaccinated; that there was something wrong with the vaccine. And if they’d already been vaccinated? Well, then the voice from the radio said to start watching for changes in about two weeks. The changes they talked about would have made everything sound like some kind of really bad practical joke, if it wasn’t for the news reports of strange happenings and panic breaking out in pockets around the world. 

Four of the people there who hadn’t yet made it to the vaccination centers that day had decided to wait and see what happened. After having spent the day watching his mom dying of the virus the shots were guaranteed to protect them against, Adam hadn’t felt very supportive of their decisions. He told them to remember the virus had a seventy-five percent kill rate. “Take a good look at each other,” he’d told them. “The four of you might go into this together, but chances are only one of you’ll make it out alive.”

Adam had tried talking to his dad about it when he’d gotten home, but there wasn’t really much talking going on in their house lately. His Dad was preoccupied and maybe a little nervous, and he’d just said that it didn’t matter. They’d already been exposed to the virus, and they’d already been vaccinated. If anything was meant to happen, it would.

Adam thinks his dad is just too worn out to handle the what ifs.

Adam and Neil are alone with their mom when the end comes. Their dad has some kind of global crisis at the company he works for. Seems like the whole world’s been hit by the same thing that’s taking their mom’s life. Every company on the face of the planet is understaffed because of the number of people who’ve succombed to The Germ. That’s what it’s being called now. There’s a long scientific name for it out there somewhere, but everyone just calls it The Germ, like it’s an official title or something. Adam thinks it’s because they all know that this man-made virus will probably be the last one. If it doesn’t end the world, it’ll change it to something it’s never been before. Between that and the trouble spots that keep popping up, the workforce has dwindled to about a third of what it used to be. Their dad has to do his part to make sure that civilization, and more importantly, businesses, keep running despite the shrinking labor pool. 

Adam doesn’t even mind that his dad’s not there with them, because his mom’s death is...Well, anticlimactic is about the best way he can describe it. 

One minute she’s there, struggling for each breath, and the next, she’s just gone. She doesn’t wake up at the end. She hasn’t woken up for the last four days. There’s no last minute communication or words of wisdom for them. She just gives up fighting.

He tries his best to hold back the tears that make his eyes burn and his vision swim, but he knows a few escape. It isn’t until he hears Neil say, “It’s okay. You don’t have to protect me,” that he lets everything out. Neil might only have fifteen years of experience at this living thing, but Adam thinks his kid brother has enough steel in him to make it though this.

Neil’s already planning what they need to do, and listening to his brother’s logic and lists is strangely calming. Adam feels his need for normality coming out, pulling him back from the edge of emotional breakdown. 

Somehow, they manage to get through the mess at the hospital. There’s not a lot they can do about arrangements for their mom, except wait. The paperwork’s all been filled out regarding the plans for disposal, and it makes Adam madder than all hell every time someone uses that word. The governments, in all their questionable wisdom, have decided that burial is not an option for people who die of exposure to The Germ. The consensus is that cremation is the only way to keep the rest of the world safe. There are still remote parts of the country and the world that haven’t been vaccinated yet, and they’re hoping that immediate cremation helps contain things, but this isn’t the way things are supposed to be. 

Their mother deserves more. They deserve more. Adam needs the ceremonial closure a funeral would provide. He needs to have a grave with a monument - someplace physical to keep him grounded and make him feel like there’s still some fleeting contact with the person who was most influential in his life. The authorities aren’t even going to release the ashes to the family. There’s some kind of mass containment site, and they’ve been warned that the general public will never have access to it.

Adam just wants to find a friend with a bottle and maybe some good smoke and let the day disappear forever. Neil keeps him going, though, with his endless questions about who they need to call and what they need to do. They have family and friends who cared about their mom, who still care about her and her family. They still have obligations.

The trip home is slow. Traffic’s a bitch, and every car ever made is on the road. It seems like everyone is trying to get somewhere. The only problem is that no one knows where they should be going. Adam has no patience for any of it. He lays on the horn more often than necessary, screaming and shouting at other drivers, and it’s Neil’s sarcasm that eventually brings him back into focus. 

“You’re not gonna be satisfied until you end up like Mom, are you? You’re trying to push someone to the point that they pull out a gun and put a bullet in your head. It’s okay. I get it, even if I don’t agree with it. Just do me a favor and let me out of the car first, okay? I’m not ready to give up yet. I still have things I want to do, like graduating and shit.”

It’s enough to make Adam realize that that’s exactly what he was trying to do. Right at this very moment, he’s not sure he has the energy to go on. He’s tired and worn out, and what’s the fucking point, anyway? But not only was it not fair to Neil, it wouldn’t be fair to whoever he pushed into doing what he can’t. He can’t leave his dad and brother with that as their last memory of him. They’re going to have a hard enough time getting over the the death of the most important woman in all their lives. They’re going to have to pull together even more now, be strong for each other, not tear what’s left apart.

So he makes up his mind right then. Whatever’s going on with the world, whatever fucked up destiny the universe has planned for them, he’s going to do all he can to make it better for the people who he cares about, to help wherever he can. 

They’ll have a small gathering for their mom, invite the relatives who live close enough and as many friends as they can. The government has been warning against unnecessary travel. They say it’s because they don’t want the virus spreading any faster than it has, but everyone knows that it’s to conserve whatever resources they can until they can adjust supplies to meet demands. And his dad’s been talking about regulations being passed to keep people on the job unless they’ve already contracted the disease, no exceptions granted. Too many jobs already need to be filled, because the people who were working them are gone. It all adds up to a small gathering, not anything close to what Adam thinks his mom deserves, but, like his father keeps telling him, it’s the best they can do considering the strange world they’re living in.

Neil’s good at setting things up. He picks a date and makes sure they have enough food and chairs. Adam takes care of talking to people. For all his lecturing about not antagonizing people on the way home from the hospital, it’s Neil who can’t even talk to anyone now. Neil flashes on and off between the normal teenager he was a month ago and a hard edged loner wannabe, and Adam thinks it’s a natural reaction to everything he’s gone through. Everyone deals with grief in their own way, and Adam’s perfectly willing to let his brother work through this in whatever way helps.

They set the date for three days after their mom’s passing, and together they plan the remembrance gathering for her while they listen to some damn strange reports on TV. There’s not much programming on lately. It’s mostly news updates and blackouts, and the updates are questionable. Adam’s dad tells them that the down time is to conserve what they can, that personnel can’t be wasted on frivolousness. It doesn’t do much to calm their nerves though, because the reports get stranger every day. Adam thinks that even watching a sixteen year-old pregnant girl try to cope with life would be better than seeing the rest of the world go crazy.

Adam goes to Jeremy’s house whenever he can. Everyone seems to congregate there, crowded around Jeremy’s dad’s radio. They don’t hear anything from the original broadcaster, but they pick up things on local citizen band radio that scare the shit out of everyone. They aren’t the vague reports of some unnamed trouble, like the talking heads on TV have been going on about. These reports sound gory and vicious, and the people sound as terrified as the original broadcaster had. Adam doesn’t think there’s a chance in hell they can be true, but he makes plans to talk to his dad about it right after the service for his mom.

Because suddenly, Eber is some kind of _Important Person_. He keeps the door to his office at home locked most of the time, but Adam’s seen glimpses of what’s behind it. It’s a hell of a lot more complicated than it used to be. There are maps and globes with push pins and strings, and papers covering the desk. There are calls for their dad at all hours of the day and night, and strangers with rough voices coming to talk to him constantly. 

On the day of the service, there’s a man in a military uniform locked in the office with his dad, and Adam hopes they’ll be done with whatever they’re doing before anyone else arrives. He’s pacing in front of the office door when it opens and the stranger walks out, looking at Adam and Neil with the eyes of a predator. It’s enough to make Adam hold his breath without realizing he’s doing it. That is, until the man with the uniform and the ramrod posture licks his lips and grins at them. Adam gasps then.

But Eber crowds right into the uniformed man’s personal space and shouts, “Fuck you! You promised to leave my boys alone, no matter what happens.”

“Don’t worry about me, Lambert. You’ll have enough problems of your own if the three of you don’t fall on the same side of the humanity divide. Nothing, and I mean not one fucking thing, is stronger than the need to feed for those who change. What are you gonna do if you find one of your precious boys looking at the other one that way? Which one are you gonna save?”

The uniformed man, who Neil later tells him is a general, turns and walks away while Eber shouts after him, “We have spaces reserved in an adjustment camp. No matter what, they’ll be safe. We’ll all be safe. You gave me your word!”

There’re so many things Adam wants to ask his dad right then, but the doorbell rings. It’s his mom’s aunt Hannah, and he and Neil are both involved in the world’s biggest hug, given by the tiniest eighty-year-old on the face of the planet. Aunt Hannah might be shrinking with age, but Adam doesn’t think anything can take away from her fierceness. Even Neil, with all his newly augmented, anti-social ways, opens up. He doesn’t object to the obligatory cheek pinching; he just holds Aunt Hannah’s cane while she fills a plate with the hors d'oeuvres that are set out for the guests.

Before Adam can even think of going after his father, who’s retreated back into his office, others start arriving. Adam and Neil both get lost in the warmth and comfort of the hugs they get and smile at the stories people share about their mom. Altogether, there are thirteen people who show up. Neil thinks it’s a pretty good turnout, taking the travel restrictions into account, but Adam still wishes it could be more. He wants to be able to give his mom more. 

When all the guests are seated and it’s time for the service to start, Adam knocks softly at his father’s office door. He doesn’t need to tell his dad why or even call him. Eber comes out on his own, looking older and more haggard than either of his sons have ever seen him. Whatever went on today, it took its toll on him. 

The planned service starts out stilted and stiff, Eber taking the lead in talking about his wife. He’s distracted, though, and there’s the same lack of emotion and connection his boys have been feeling lately.

But then Neil gets up to talk, and the little shit even brings Adam to tears. He starts out by telling everyone how he fallen off his bike when he was learning to ride and skinned his knee. He’d started to cry, like any five-year-old would, but a group of older boys had gone by and made fun of him. Neil said he’d forced the tears to stop right then and there, and went inside to clean up his scrapes. His mom had found him in the bathroom, digging pebbles and grit out from under the skin of his knee, getting more and more frustrated at the tears that kept trying to blur his vision. The more he’d tried to fight the tears, the harder he’d dug at the scrape, and the more frustrated he’d felt.

Neil told them how Leila, in all her motherly wisdom, had hugged him and told him that she was sad that he got hurt. So sad that she wanted to cry, too, but she couldn’t if he wouldn’t. He was the one who’d gotten hurt, after all, and it wouldn’t be right for her to take his place and cry for him. She’d asked him if was sure he really didn’t want to cry, just a little bit, because then she could, and it would make her feel so much better. 

So, Neil had let the tears flow freely, and it had seemed to make things just a little bit better. His mother had taken over cleaning out the scrape, and she’d shed a few tears, too. Neil said that crying with someone had felt completely different than crying by himself. It had felt healing, and there’d been a sense of strength in it. It hadn’t taken his mom long to patch him up, and by the time she was done, so were their tears.

Standing in front of the small group, Neil looks at each of them in turn, and says, “I’m gonna go sit down now, but just so you know, I’ll be crying. If any of you feel the need to express yourself that way, you can use me as an excuse. I still don’t like to cry alone.”

Adam’s glad his contribution to the service is a song. He doesn’t think anything he could say would come close to having as much impact as what Neil shared with them. He sings from his heart, though, and it’s enough. Each word, each note holds all the emotion that he needs to share with these people. 

When the last note is sung, the gathering evolves into a more relaxed group. They talk. They remember. They laugh and cry. And then someone remembers that the President is supposed to be on TV. The Commander In Chief has been doing bi-weekly announcements for over a month. At first they were to remind people to get their immunization against The Germ, but lately they’ve been strange.

Since the night they picked up the shortwave broadcast, the president’s televised addresses have had a frantic edge. The words that come out of the president’s mouth should be reassuring, but the fact that he has to say them in the first place worries everyone. The news blackouts have kept most people in the dark about what’s really happening in the ‘troubled areas’ of the world. Hearing the president talk about plans that are being implemented to see them through this rough patch in history only serves to make most people angry over not knowing what’s going on.

Except Aunt Hannah. She informs them that the President knows what’s best, and they all need to trust him. Adam looks at his dad then, but Eber’s refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. To Adam, it feels like his dad knows the truth, and he’s not comfortable with it.

The President is winding down, and Aunt Hannah is telling everyone for the third time that she voted for that man, when the Press Secretary interrupts to hand the President a news bulletin. Even Neil isn’t paying too much attention by this point. Only Aunt Hannah is still watching intently. Everyone hears her ask, “But why are they holding hands?”

Adam turns back to the TV in time to see the chilling, _hungry_ look on Obama’s face as he pulls Mr. Carney’s hand - which he is indeed holding very tightly - close enough to his mouth to bite off the fingers of his right hand.

Everything happens too fast to keep up with then. There are screams and blood running down the president’s face and just before the cameras cut out, the man in charge of everything looks at the camera, smiles, and takes another bite.

Adam hears a thump and sees Aunt Hannah slumped back in her chair. Neil is standing there with his mouth open, staring at the now blank television. Eber is sitting with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands, mumbling something that sounds like _“It’s not supposed to be like this”_ over and over.

The gathering breaks up as soon as they’re sure Aunt Hannah’s all right. No one quite knows what to say or do after that. Neil says later that everyone left because of terminal awkwardness. Adam thinks it was more of a case of being so fucking shocked that they were afraid to talk about what they saw.

When they’re alone, Adam’s dad calls both boys into his office, and there’s one more shock for the night. This is where their dad changed from the loving man they grew up with into the distracted stranger who’s been haunting their lives. Adam’s not sure he wants to be here. 

There’s only one chair, and Neil seems to think he’s entitled to it. One look from Eber is enough to remind his youngest son that rank does indeed have its privileges, and their father outranks them both, and it’s the first thing that’s felt normal in way too long, because that’s something only the dad Adam’s known all his life would be able to pull off. 

“You haven’t been allowed in here for a while now,” Eber starts out, his voice heavy with an emotion that sounds a lot like guilt to Adam, “because there were things going on in the world that you didn’t need to know about yet. Things no one was supposed to know about, at least until they saw them for themselves. But you both saw what happened with the President tonight. So did the rest of the country. Hell, probably the rest of the world.”

Eber takes a deep breath, and Adam thinks it’s more to refocus on what he wants to say than the need for air. “These things that are happening, the changes that are going on out there in the world, well, they’re not what we expected. They were unforeseen, but they can be handled with careful planning. There are ways to prevent what happened on television tonight. We just have to work out a few more bugs.”

Adam wishes he had a chair to sit in then, because hearing his dad talk about what they’d seen in such a detached, analytical way was robbing him of all his strength. His legs want to collapse under him, and he has to hold the edge of his dad’s desk to steady himself. This man giving this weird, stilted, unfeeling speech that turns living, breathing people into nothing more than unforeseen casualties can’t be his dad. His eyes flick across the maps and graphs and markers and all the printed out data that’s cluttering the surface, and with dawning horror, Adam realizes that all these are mirroring the march of craziness that’s taking over the world.

Slowly, Eber starts telling them about his role in what’s going on. How the side effects of the vaccination came to light a little over two weeks after the first areas were inoculated. By then it was too late to stop giving them. 

Eber explains that an emergency meeting was held with all the world leaders, who’d naturally been among the first to be vaccinated. They’d carefully considered the unexpected twist the vaccine bought with it, and decided to go ahead with the inoculations that the small, mostly rural portion of the population hadn’t yet received. 

“Wait…” Adam interrupts. “They knew it was going to turn them into monsters, and they went ahead with it anyway?” He looks over at Neil, and he thinks the the look of unbelieving horror on his face must mirror his own. He has no idea how their dad can stand there and explain this so calmly, but Adam wants to punch walls and break windows and throw things just hearing about it. 

“It was decided that leaving those few people at the mercy of both The Germ and the changed world would be far more cruel than giving them the shot and letting them face only one,” Eber says, rubbing a hand across his eyes, and Adam can see the stress and tension and maybe even a little guilt in them. “Besides, who are you to decide the changed people are monsters? They’re still people. They just have a different appetite, a different need. It’s not unheard of in nature. It’s not outside of the natural order of the world.”

“It sure as hell is!” Neil shouts. Adam’s glad he can always count on his brother to call bullshit when he hears it, because, otherwise he would have just stood there with his mouth open, listening to his dad trying to justify this shit. “This is so far outside the natural order for thinking beings that it’s fucked in the fucking head, and so is your trying to make us accept it like we have no choice!”

“You really don’t have a choice, Neil,” Eber says, looking at his son with all the sadness in the world in his eyes. “None of us have a choice in this. None of us has a choice in who or what we’ll end up being. Not one of the people who’ve been changed by this side effect has asked for it, but it’s here, and the world has to find a way to deal with it.”

After the disastrous start, when they’d done nothing because they weren’t expecting anything, Eber tells them, The New Word Consortium, a group made up of multinational political and business leaders, worked out a plan for keeping things under tighter control. He pulls out maps and sheets filled with numbers and data, and Adam feels acid churning in his stomach at the detached way his dad explains what sounds too damn much like the end of humanity.

As an inoculated area nears its time for change, it’s quarantined. Everyone is rounded up and placed in adjustment camps. They stay there until they’ve passed the time of change. Those who do change are released back into the world to help the dwindling workforce.

The next part makes Adam wonder who this monster in front of him is, and what happened to the loving man he thought he’d known all these years. Because Eber tells them that those who don’t evolve - and that word grates on Adam so fucking much; there’s no way that a forced, manmade screwup is evolution - will remain in the adjustment camps indefinitely. Those who are able to help civilization will be assigned jobs that can be done while confined, and those who prove to be useless will be kept as a source of food.

Adam can see blind rage boiling up in Neil, but before either of them can gather their thoughts or express their outrage, their dad tells them that there’s no use fighting what _will_ happen. The forces behind these plans are too strong and too numerous to even think of trying to defy them. Eber tells them that he’s done what he could for them. He’s obtained guarantees that they’ll be kept together in the adjustment camp, and no matter which side they end up on after the changes come, they’ve been promised humane treatment. 

Somehow, that doesn’t exactly sound humane to Adam.

Then he tells them that they have until tomorrow evening to pack a bag of whatever’s important to them, because they’re all going to the camp when he gets home from an important conference. 

That’s apparently the end of their little father-son talk, because Eber picks up a few papers and puts them in his briefcase before walking out of the office. Adam and Neil stand in stunned silence as they hear their father’s footsteps walking down the hall and the front door closing as he leaves the house.

Neil’s the first one to break out of the silence and immobility of the stupor their dad’s words had caused. He grabs whatever papers he can reach from Eber’s desk and throws them ineffectually in the direction of the door. “This is bullshit,” he yells to no one in particular. “Nothing but fucking bullshit!”

Then he reaches for Eber’s laptop, and Adam thinks Neil will probably have more luck throwing that than he did with the papers, but something catches his eye, and he almost falls into Eber’s chair as he looks at the screen. 

“That’s it. This is where we’re supposed to go.” 

Adam walks around the desk so he can see what his brother’s looking at, and it’s a grid pattern. There’s row after row of blocks, reaching out in arms like tentacles. There are levels on levels on levels of blocks, and more of the octopus-like structures come into view as Neil widens out the view on the screen. Each block has three numbers listed in it, and Adam knows each number represents a person. He doesn’t know how or why he knows that, but it feels right. They have room for hundreds and hundreds of thousands, maybe for all of San Diego county.

Adam moves to pick up the laptop then. He wants nothing more than watching the hateful thing smash into pieces as it hits the wall, but Neil stops him. He’s confused at first, until he hears what Neil’s trying to tell him. “We can use this. See?” he asks, scrolling through screen after screen. Adam’s not sure what he’s supposed to be looking at, because the only thing changing is the color background of the blocks of holding cells. “I’m not certain what it means yet. Give me some time with it, and I’ll figure it out. Knowing their plans can only be a good thing, right?”

“Time is one thing we don’t have a lot of,” Adam tells him. “Dad’ll be home after work tomorrow, and then we’re gonna be seeing that from the inside. We’ll be trapped there, maybe for the rest of our lives.”

“Not if we leave tonight,” Neil says, and Adam can’t believe the idea of taking off before their father gets back hadn’t occurred to him. Leave it to Neil to come up with a plan. It’s not much of a plan yet, but it’s a start.

They gather some of the papers that look like they’ll be useful. Neil makes sure that he can access the files they want on the laptop if they shut it down and take it with them. 

When everything is picked over in the office, they head to their rooms. Adam tries to call a few friends to warn them, but he’s got no reception on his phone. There’ve been roving blackouts for the last few weeks. It’s another manifestation of the changes the world’s going through.

Adam starts packing his favorite things in his big backpack, then takes it all out and starts over. He’s planning on wearing his hiking boots, but he packs his comfortable shoes for when his feet need a break. He picks out clothes to wear and an extra set to pack, making sure they’re more serviceable than stylish. He packs every spare pair of underwear and socks that he owns, and rolls a couple of blankets and a pillow into a bedroll that can be strapped to the bottom of his pack. He’s planning on filling up the rest of the pack with food and water bottles. 

At the last minute, he takes the picture that’s on his nightstand out of the frame and puts it carefully in one of the pockets of his pack. It was taken last fall, and it’s the last one of the four of them together and happy.

Adam leaves his pack by the door and goes to look for Neil. He finds his brother in the garage, loading the back of their mom’s car with any gas cans he can find. He tells Adam to check all the usual hiding places for any emergency money in the house. They might not have long to spend actual currency, but they can use it for things that are worth bartering later. They throw in all the camping gear they can find for good measure, and Neil’s particularly excited about a small, gas powered generator they find hidden behind the tent that hasn’t been used in years.

Adam’s ready to go when Neil runs back into the house, telling Adam he’ll be back in a minute. At first, Adam thinks he’s going back for a last bathroom break, but when Neil comes out, he’s carrying their dad’s handgun and all the ammunition. 

“Yeah, right,” he tells his brother. “Like you could really shoot someone.”

“If I have to, I will,” Neil answers, putting it safely in the glove compartment. “You know what’s going to happen in a few days. Even if it’s just the two of us, the odds are in favor of at least one of us changing. If we both stay the way we are, or if we both change, we won’t need it. But if one of us is on each side of that line, we have to be able to protect ourselves.”

That’s one thing Adam never thought of. Until right this second, this had all felt like the start of a great adventure, but the idea of not having Neil by his side through all this is something he doesn’t want to think about. And no matter what happens, he’s not gonna shoot his brother. Not even to save his own life. At least he doesn’t think he would. It’s something he hopes he never has to find out for sure.

They stop at a gas station, and Adam uses his dad’s credit card to top off every tank and container they have that’s approved for gasoline. Inside, Adam buys every quart of oil they have: 10W30, 10W15, 2 cycle, 4 cycle, he’s not even sure what else. If it’s in the oil section, he buys it. He’s not too concerned about using his dad’s card to pay. He’s done it before. That’s why the card is always left at home. It’s for emergency use when Eber’s not around. Plus, Adam feels safe using it while they’re still in town. What they’re buying might show they’re planning on traveling somewhere, but not where they’re going. Once they’re outside of the city, he’s planning on throwing it out the window. And finding a different car. Or at least new plates for this one. Neil’s not the only one who can make plans, after all.

Next they head to the closest grocery store. It turns out that the closest one is a superstore, so Adam thinks maybe the fates or the universe or whatever is backing their escape plan, because, one stop shopping? Yeah, perfect.

They load up on food and more water and whatever camping and survival-type gear they think they’re likely to need. Neil even picks up a fancy compound bow that makes Adam laugh. He thinks his little brother has probably been watching too much TV, but he lets it pass and pays for it with everything else.

When they get back to the car, and they’re loading everything into it, he’s glad his mom still had her soccer mom type SUV, because they fill every inch with their purchases. There’s no way in hell he’s going out into the wilderness without a good supply of soap, which is what Neil insisted they’d have to leave behind if there wasn’t room.

Finally, it’s time to start their new life. In books and movies, they’d just start driving off into the sunset, but it’s morning, and they have to have some idea where they’re going. There’s no way they want to drive into some roadblock and be herded right back into that adjustment camp.

Neil thinks they should head for Cabrillo National Monument. He’d been there on a field trip for school, and he says there are places they could hide there. Adam’s afraid that once things start getting serious around here, everybody will be heading for places like that. He thinks they’d be best finding somewhere out away from the city. Somewhere they can wait for things to settle down.

While Adam drives, Neil plugs the laptop into a powerport, trying to absorb all the information in as many files as he can. He told Adam that he doesn’t think anyone will be able to track the location of the computer if he doesn’t go online, but he’s really not sure. It could be sending out a beacon that can be traced back to them. They’re counting on the confusion of the next few days monopolizing everyone’s time. They’re just two boys, after all. Why would anyone except their dad care enough to come looking for them?

But Neil wants to learn as much as he can, as fast as he can, just in case they decide to ditch the machine.

Once they’re outside the city, the roads are pretty much deserted. Adam knows it’s because of the travel restrictions, and being the only car on the main highways makes him feel too much like a target, so he switches to secondary roads and backroads. He drives in slow lazy loops, working his way a little further from the city as the day winds down. 

That night, they forego setting up the old tent and just sleep in the car. Adam had found a cut off on the county road they were on, and there was little chance of them being found, even if someone were looking for them. They talk a little while. Neil looks through more files, but neither one of them can quiet their thoughts enough to sleep.

Adam can’t quite figure out why their dad told them what was going to happen, then just left them alone and unsupervised. He had to know they’d do everything they could to avoid the situation. He must have thought there was at least a possibility that they’d run. Somehow, the thought that their dad not only foresaw this, but in some strange way encouraged it - or at least enabled it - is comforting enough to help Adam drift off for a couple hours of sleep.

When he wakes up, Adam sees that Neil is back at the laptop, clicking through file after file. ”Did you even get any sleep?” he asks his brother.

“Yeah, a little. Couldn’t get comfortable, though. And you seriously snore, dude.”

“I don’t snore. I asked Wyatt. He said I sleep like an angel.”

“TMI, man!” Neil says quickly, covering his ears like a child, and Adam realizes just how young his brother is. “Don’t wanna hear about you sleeping with your boyfriend. Besides, you totally snore. And drool. And talk in your sleep.”

Neil says the last part as he’s ducking from the things Adam’s throwing at him, but Adam stops when he notices Neil has gone quiet. “What?”

“Nothing. Or maybe something.” Sometimes, the way Neil makes people work to figure out what he’s talking about infuriates Adam, and this is starting to be one of those times.

“Just tell me what’s bothering you. Aside from the whole world being full of people eating monsters and us being on the run parts, because I kinda already know those.”

Neil’s quiet for so long that Adam thinks the conversation’s ended. Just when he’s about to get out and find someplace to take care of his morning business, though, Neil says, “I wasn’t lying about you talking in your sleep, you know.”

It wasn’t exactly the big revelation he was expecting, but whatever. His kid brother can be strange and moody. He’s learned to live with it. “Sorry if I kept you up. I don’t even remember dreaming, but after everything that’s been happening, I must have been talking some weird shit.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t you talking that kept me awake. I’m your brother. I’m good at ignoring you when I want to. It’s what you were saying. Are you sure you don’t remember?”

The look on Neil’s face makes Adam wish he could remember, but there’s a big, black hole there. “What was I saying?”

“You were telling people to follow you if they wanted to live. It was your voice that got me. I saw it coming out of you mouth, but it was more. It was bigger and stronger. More like you sound when you’re singing.”

It takes a few seconds for Adam to get his mind around hearing his brother talk about his singing that way. He always thought Neil put up with listening to him sing because he had to, not because there was anything he liked about it. It’s not until he gets over the almost compliment that Adam actually focuses on the rest.

“Damn! That must have been some dream. Too bad I don’t remember it.”

“It’s more than a dream, Adam. It’s an idea. An idea that came from you, from your subconscious. It’s an idea that could totally work.”

“Yeah, okay. You’re not making any sense at all, Neil. Maybe you need a little more sleep to be able to form complete thoughts or something.”

“Shut up, asshole. I should know better than to think you’d actually know you have a good idea when you have one.”

Neil moves over as close to the door on his side as he can, which puts the maximum amount of distance possible between him and Adam, and crosses his arms across his chest. It reminds Adam of a kid putting his fingers in his ears and saying _I can’t hear you_. 

“Come on,” Adam says. “You know you love pointing things out to me that you think I’m not smart enough to see myself. If it’s a good idea, it’s an idea you got from strange shit I said in my sleep. And if it really can help people, we kinda have to see if it’ll work, don’t we? Especially after seeing what we saw on TV.”

Adam can see he’s getting through to his brother. “Come on, Neil. If it works, you’ll be a hero. Sort of. A hero who’s also an ass, but still a hero. A reluctant hero. Maybe even an antihero.” 

The longer he goes on, the less mad Neil looks, and by the time Adam’s done, Neil’s actually smiling. He knows how to work his brother’s moods.

“Okay, but lets find someplace to set up camp, so I can spread all this shit out. Then I can explain it to you.”

Adam takes care of nature’s business, then starts the car. He’s still not sure where they’re heading, but if Neil wants to set up camp, he thinks heading further down the road they’re on is the best bet. 

It’s more of a lane than a road, and it doesn’t look like it’s seen any traffic in months. It’s not even paved, and the gravel’s so spotty that weeds are growing all through it.

It turns out to be the right decision, though, because when the road peters out, they’re in front of a cabin. It’s someone’s retreat, but Adam doesn’t think anyone will be retreating to it anytime soon. It looks empty, but not abandoned. The roof doesn’t have holes in it, and the windows aren’t broken, so it looks like it would be better shelter than a tent. And even if they end up sleeping on the floor, it’ll be more comfortable than spending another night in the car. 

“Looks like this is home for the night,” Adam tells Neil as he gets out of the car. “Lets see what it looks like inside.”

The door is locked, but after looking around a little, they find the key on the lintel, so apparently the owners have never been worried about strangers showing up. It’s looking more and more like they found the perfect place to stay for a while.

Once they’re in they start opening windows. There’s an unused smell in the air - not quite stale or musty, more like it hasn’t been disturbed in a long time. 

With the curtains open, there’s enough light in the cabin for Neil to work. He goes out to the car to get the laptop and the papers they took from their dad’s office while Adam looks around. 

There’s a generator in the shed out back, and a big old propane tank on the side of the cabin. Adam taps on it, and he doesn’t think it sounds empty, but he really has no clue what the difference between full and empty would sound like. 

He’s just glad it’s there, because it means this place is really off the grid. 

He gets one of the gas cans from the car and fills the generator. It takes more than a few tries to get it running, but once it starts, it sounds strong and even, and Adam feels like it’s another little unexpected thing that he can be thankful for.

When he goes back in the cabin, Adam sees Neil’s made himself at home. He’s taken over the table, and has papers spread all around the laptop. He start in immediately, showing Adam a map with concentric rings banding the area. “This started yesterday. Military and police are working together to round up people. There’s civil defense warnings going out on local television and radio, telling people to report to the camps for protection against whatever’s going on in the world.”

Neil shakes his head, and the look on his face is so old and worn that Adam almost wishes his little brother who was dorky, goofy and weird was back. “They’re keeping the public uninformed and confused, so they're grateful for whatever help they think they’re getting. It’s not right, Adam. They don’t know that if they have any humanity left in the next few days, they’ll never be let out of those camps alive.”

“Wait, what? What’s the next few days got to do with it?”

“The changes come about fifteen days after you get the shot for The Germ. There’s a day leeway each side of that, so most people are gonna change the day after tomorrow. But tomorrow’s gonna be the starting point for people who got the vaccination when we did. The reports say the powers that be are planning on taking people out of the camps as they change. The only problem is, they can’t watch everyone all the time. Mostly, they’ll be able to tell someone’s gone through the change when they start eating someone else. Even with only three people in a cell, it’s gonna be a bloody mess.”

Adam feels bad for the people who are going to be stuck in confinement with a new breed of man made monster, but he hadn’t really thought of the timeframe before. It’s setting off all kinds of alarms in his head, and bringing up scenarios he’d rather not have to think about.

“According to the figures here,” Neil continues, “They expect to have less than a hundred thousand unchanged people left in the camps. That’s out of pre virus population of over one million in the area. Of those, twenty percent are expected to be judged unfit to work, so they’ll be moved into the food holding areas.” 

Neither one of them is able to really relate the numbers to the people they’ve known all their lives. It all seems so impersonal and detached, yet horrific at the same time. Neil points to another figure and says, “Fifteen percent of those left are expected to be under ten-years old and too young for physical work. They’re still planning on using them for menial labor, though. They’re not going to school them or give them a chance to be kids.”

The numbers are starting to swirl and swim in Adam’s head. He’s heard enough of them to make him physically sick. “You said you had an idea that could help people. How ‘bout you get to that part?”

“You have to know how and why it’s gonna help, if it’s gonna have any chance of working,” Neil tells him, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, but get to that part a little quicker, all right? You’re burying me with doom and gloom and numbers that I don’t want to keep track of even if i could. You have to learn how to hold your audience’s attention.”

“That’s gonna be your job, actually, but I don’t want to get ahead of myself. I have to work through this in the right order to see the flaws and problems that might come up.

“There’s a file on here somewhere,” Neil mutters, mostly to himself, “that explains about the fundamental frequency of the human body and how the changed people are sensitive to it. That’s how they know who to eat, and why they don’t just go around eating each other. That’s the change the vaccination caused. That’s why dad said it wasn’t supposed to happen when Obama went canibal on TV. They had the press secretary wearing a device that was supposed to mask that. If I could just find the right fucking file, I could show you.”

Adam can tell Neil’s frustration level is spreading quicker and quicker and threatening to take over completely. It’s not so much that Neil has a short fuse, but more that his brother can’t deal with things that aren’t orderly and logical. He’s always been better with numbers and mechanical systems, just like their dad.

“Relax, Neil. I know what a sound wave looks like, if that’s what you’re talking about.”

That brings Neil’s attention back to him and they make eye contact for the first time since Neil started this little demonstration. The longer they look directly at each other, the more Adam can feel his brother letting go of the tension he’s been holding. It’s almost something tangible as the stress leaves Neil’s face. When he’s calmed down enough to take a deep breath, Neil says, “See, you didn’t even know you were doing that, did you?”

“Doing what?” Adam asks, because he’s totally lost whatever thread Neil was trying to explain. “I was just standing here. I seriously think you need to relax a little. Try to get some sleep or something. All this shit won’t change if you sleep for a couple of hours.”

“It won’t change, but one of us might. We’re too close to that point in time where we find out if we’re gonna stay the way we are, or if we’re gonna develop a taste for each other. You have to know this and understand it before that change comes in case I’m the only one to change.”

Neil explains that The Germ wasn’t one germ. It was a manipulated mass of germs that were forced to morph into one organism due to some accidental discovery in a biological weapons lab. That’s why it hit so hard and had such a high fatality rate. In order to combat it, the vaccination was designed to change the way the human body defended itself against invading microbes. It turned out to be more successful than they’d ever hoped, but it changed the basic rhythm and tempo their bodies functioned at, too. 

The thing that Neil seems to be able to see, that whoever put all the numbers and files together couldn’t, is that it changes everyone, just not in the same way. Those who don’t turn into monsters who eat people are changed, too. They’re more. Some part of them, a part that was there all along and maybe even one of their strengths, is highlighted. 

Neil tells Adam that there’s no way he could have made sense of all the data he’s been going through before, but now the logic trails are so plain and easy to see. He can see why they thought masking the press secretary’s harmonic vibrations would work, and he can see why it failed. 

It didn’t work, Neil tells Adam, because they forgot the non-harmonic overtones that work their way out in times of stress. The secretary was nervous, and that disrupted his vibrations enough to render the device he was wearing useless. 

_Neil actually seems excited over this._

It all boils down to finding the right vibrations for the situation, and being able to broadcast them, Neil informs him. If they can do that, they can rescue some of the people in the camp, because the containment security isn’t the best. 

“You better have one hell of a detailed plan then, because this sounds too damn dangerous to try based on an if,” Adam tells him.

“They’re mostly keeping them there by using fear of the unknown,” Neil says. “They had that planned from the beginning. They learned some things from the places that changed first, and they used what they learned in making plans for the areas that change last. San Diego was in the next to the last wave of inoculations, so there’s only one more group after us, and that’s just the rural places with very little population. The governments have them under an even tighter news blackout.”

Neil tells Adam in detail how he can set up a harmonic vibration that mimics or masks that of an original human, which he insists on calling OHs, with just the supplies he has here. He’s planning on taking bits and pieces of their phones and iPods and combining them with parts of the car’s sound system in ways that make Adam confused just hearing about them.

He shows Adam a map of the compound and marks off all the weakest spots in security. Now Adam knows what Neil spent all his time studying yesterday while they were driving. He knows what his brother meant by their own strengths being highlighted, too. Neil’s always been good with seeing how things fit and worked together, but this is in a whole new class. 

Neil hesitates a little before he admits that with just the two of them, they can’t really concentrate on getting the OHs who’ve been designated as unfit for work details out - or the children. Not yet anyway. But he adds that they can always go back later with more people, if they don’t end up getting killed on the first run.

“Even if we do get in and have a way to get people out, what makes you think they’ll come with us? If the people in charge have been feeding them bullshit about what’s really going on in the world, what’s gonna make them suddenly trust us enough to believe what we’re saying?” 

“That’s where you come in,” Neil answers. “The way you were talking in your sleep made me wonder, but you proved it just a little while ago.”

“Proved what? You lost me again, Neil.”

“When I was frustrated before, you were projecting calm and confidence. It comes through in your voice, and it comes through in your eyes. You radiate it. You draw people to you and make them want to follow you. You’ve always been that way with some people, and I never understood why. But now, it even works on me, so I think it’ll work on most people. The OHs, anyway.”

“Let me get this straight. You’re gonna broadcast vibrations that mimic people who’ve changed into a prison camp, and I’m just gonna march right in and tell everyone to follow me? And they’re gonna do it? Without question? I don’t think that’s much of a fucking plan, Neil.”

“It’s simplified, and I’ll be broadcasting OH frequencies through the transmitters you leave in place of the people you’re bringing out and changed human frequencies from our point of entry, but that’s it basically. We only have to worry about whatever guards they have posted who might have direct eye contact with what’s going on, and if we time it right, there shouldn’t be any of those. Believe me, I have their schedules all worked out, thanks to the information on Dad’s laptop. Like I said, their security and containment plans are mostly based on keeping the people inside uninformed. They think they’re being protected in there. They’re not looking for a way to escape.”

“Exactly. They don’t want to get out. They think insane people are gonna attack them and start eating them the second they leave. And you think they’re gonna follow me just because I have a good voice and nice eyes?”

“I know it’s hard to accept because you don’t have anything to base it on. I can tell how much more I understand with these files because it’s something tangible, something that can be noted and measured, and I still find it hard to believe. But you’re just gonna have to trust me on this one, Adam. I know what I heard in your voice. That’s what kept me from falling asleep again. I _did_ want to follow you so I could live. Hell, I still do. And I know what I felt when you looked at me and wanted me to calm down. There’s no way I can ever begin to explain how it made me feel, except that I thought you were the wisest person who ever lived, and you know that’s not a normal thought for me. I would have died for you or killed for you then, and I would have been calm when I did it.”

Adam doesn’t have the words to argue with that right now. He doesn’t have any words at all. He’s having more than a little trouble wrapping his brain around what his little brother just told him. Instead he goes over the maps Neil has of the adjustment camp, learning them backwards and forwards. 

Neil gives him the laptop and tells him to study. He flips from one diagram to another, looking for any similarities or differences. He spends hours familiarizing himself with all aspects of the compound, noting any places that could be used to hide if Neil’s plan doesn’t work. 

Neil keeps busy the rest of that day and the next building his transmitters and timers and figuring out where they have to be placed. He has pieces of every electronic item they brought with them scattered all across the table, and he’s fitting them together with a speed and precision that stuns Adam. Neil was always a tinkerer, but this is so far beyond what he should be able to do.

They take a break in the late afternoon to eat, but neither one is very hungry. They both know there’s something they need to talk about, and it doesn’t involve helping other people escape from the camp. When he can’t stand avoiding it another second, Adam breaks the barrier of small talk they’ve been exchanging. The ideas behind the words are hard and big and want to tear his heart right in two, and he can’t avoid them any longer. 

“I won’t be able to do it, you know? If it comes down to you changing and me staying the same, I won’t be able to kill you.”

“If it comes down to that, you won’t have much of a choice. You’ll be fighting for your life. Besides, if I change, I won’t be me anymore.”

When night comes, they both find a place to sleep. There are bedrooms in the cabin. Three of them, as a matter of fact, but they both roll their sleeping bags out on the floor of the main room. If this is going to be the last night that they can feel the brotherly bond they’ve had all their lives, they don’t want to spend it locked away from each other, even if it might be safer.

In the morning, the sun comes up, just like any other day. They’re both awake to watch it, because they know the greatest probability of one or both of them changing is planted squarely on this one day. They keep as busy as they can by rounding up as many tents and sleeping bags as they can, because it gives them something to do besides watching each other. 

Adam doesn’t feel any different, but he wonders if the people who change even know they’re changing. He doesn’t know if either one of them would be able to pick up gradual, little tells, or if the changes will all suddenly be there, full blown and ready to take a bite out of life. 

Adam doesn’t want to be a monster. He doesn’t want his brother to be one either, but neither of them control over it. He can’t stop his mind from thinking about all the people in his life; people who might be changing right now, or they might already be dead. He hopes that his dad’s safe, no matter what side he ends up on. He doesn’t hold onto much hope for Aunt Hannah, though.

Neil knows what areas are cleared of people, and they visit stores in small towns wherever they can. It’s strange and surreal, and no one’s there to ring up their purchases, but Adam leaves some of the cash they took from home, thinking all the while that it’s a sign of what life will be like from now on.

In the afternoon, they go back out for food. They don’t know how many people they’ll be able to rescue, if any, but they want to be prepared. Besides, it gives them something to do besides worrying about turning their backs on each other. And it beats Neil’s idea of locking themselves in the cabin, him with the pistol and Neil with the crossbow, watching each other for changes.

When night comes, they both breathe a little easier. There’s still a chance for change in the next twenty-four hours, but it’s a slight chance, at best. They’ve passed the critical time, and they feel more comfortable talking and teasing and going over their plans once more. If everything goes according to schedule, they’ll be at the camp this time tomorrow night, and anything could go wrong then, no matter how carefully they’ve planned.

Adam’s just starting to drift off when he hears Neil’s voice in the darkness. “I’m glad you didn’t change, Adam, because I would have been able to do it.” 

***

After a day where minutes seemed to stand still, and hours felt like they carried the weight of years, it’s finally time to show what they think they have. 

Neil has all kinds of electrical hardware wired up to the car. He’s going to stay and monitor it and broadcast the right frequencies to the right transmitters at the right times. To the electrical monitoring systems, and to the changed people in the area, it’ll feel like there are guards stationed all around, and they won’t notice any decrease in the volume of harmonics from the OHs. Neil’s going to be watching and increasing the broadcast as more people leave. It’s a very fine balance he has to keep, and Adam’s glad it’s not his responsibility.

He still doesn’t have much confidence in what is his responsibility, though. If it wasn’t for Neil, he’d never even consider that this might work. But Neil seems so sure of him, and they're both staking their lives on it.

“Five minutes until all the guards are supposed to be out of the holding area. You ready?” Neil asks.

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Are you sure they’re all together in there? They’re not in cells like before?”

“Yeah. According to what’s in the files, all the people who are scheduled to be workers from this block should be in one holding area tonight. Tomorrow, they’ll be given assignments and sent wherever, but tonight they’re just thrown together.”

Picking up the transmitters he has to place inside, Adam says, “In case something happens and I don’t come back, I want you to know you’ve been a pretty decent brother. Some of the time.”

“Yeah, well...Just remember your speech, oaky?”

Adam makes his way through the camp and to the holding pen, jumping at every noise and shadow. He knows Neil picked the absolute closest spot to park the car, but it still feels like a walk of a thousand miles. He sets transmitters along the perimeter, knowing Neil’s watching with binoculars. Adam can feel the vibrations as Neil fires them up, and he hopes they’re really doing the job they’re supposed to. 

When he gets to the holding area, Adam looks the first person he comes across right in the eyes, and he can see a look of absolute trust blossoming on her face. “Will you really believe me?” he asks, the words spoken more to himself than to her.

“I’ll believe,” is the only answer he hears, but it’s enough to jump start something deep inside him. Suddenly, he’s more than he was, and he feels a heat and a spark that’s never been there before. He didn’t really believe in Neil’s plan until right now, but, damn if it isn’t working. He almost forgets what he has prepared to say in the excitement of the moment, but then that same power crackling through him takes over.

He starts telling them what’s planned for them, and more and more people turn to listen to his words. He feels a power flowing through him, touching them and coming back in waves. He tells them that he can help, if they let him. He actually uses the _Follow me if you want to live_ line that Neil told him he said in his sleep, and he’s amazed at the reaction it gets.

He has people reaching for him, trying to touch him. He has people cheering for him and hanging on his every word. It doesn’t work for all of them. Some argue that the only safety is here, inside the fences. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t sway them, but he takes those who are willing to follow and leads them back the way he came.

He has a crowd following him. He doesn’t think there are more than a hundred people in his group, but seeing how many people he’s leading out of a life of imprisonment and forced labor makes him feel right in a way he never has before. This feels like what he’s supposed to be doing with his life.

When they reach the car, Neil tells Adam that he’ll hold his position as long as he can, but there might be a glitch. The battery in the car is straining to keep up with the demand he’s putting on it, but he thinks he can push it so they can get a good start on the walk back to the cabin. He tells Adam not to worry, that he’ll catch up to him later.

Adam knows his brother will manage to do what has to be done as he leads his band of followers into the woods.

~*~

It doesn’t take long for the new people to find their place in this new life. Once they see for themselves what’s actually going on in the world outside the camp, they do whatever they need to in order to avoid the monsters they’d trusted in the beginning.

When things settle down enough for the authorities to start looking for the people who went missing from the camp, Adam and Neil decide that it might be a good idea to move further out. Not all the followers move with them, though, and Adam doesn’t use his newfound abilities to try and persuade them. Forcing them to bend to his will would only be putting them in a different kind of prison, and he’s not willing to do that.

Neil takes parties out to find vehicles and gasoline and whatever else they might need on the road. Adam makes sure that those who’ve chosen to stay behind are provided for, and the rest set off to make a new home further north. They don’t want to go too far too fast, though, because they’re picking up new people all the time. People have been talking, and telling the story of a young leader who just might save what’s left of the world. 

By the time they make it to the mountains outside of Los Angeles, Adam decides this might be a good place to live. They still have the mountain ranges as a barrier between them and the changed people now inhabiting the city, but they’re close enough to attract any OHs that might be in the area. Adam can’t help remembering the shortwave transmission that warned him of what might be coming his way before his world changed. Maybe the people responsible for it are still out there somewhere, and maybe Adam will be able to find them and thank them.

Act 3

Tommy counts himself lucky that he’s on his own this time. He doesn’t have to worry about anyone except himself. The last couple of supply raids on towns they thought were empty haven’t gone well, and they’ve lost people - people they can’t afford to lose.

Someone like him, someone who doesn’t care anymore, with no skills and no one to leave behind, well, losing him wouldn’t hurt their group. Tommy thinks he’s the most completely dispensable person in their little band. 

He’s not like the Doc who ended up with a broken hand last week because Tommy couldn’t fucking do his job right when they went looking for meds. Tommy couldn’t keep his head in the game, and Doc had ended up having to fight off one of the changelings on his own. They’re all lucky it’d only been a hairline fracture, even though a one handed doctor wasn’t the most comforting thought when someone was hurt. 

Doc isn’t even a real doctor. He’s an ex military medic, but he’s the best they have. Besides, the man seems to have an almost intuitive way of knowing what’s wrong when it comes to the human body and what needs to be done to make it right. Besides, Tommy doesn’t think any of them would survive long without their only trained medical personnel. 

And then there was Amy. Sweet, gentle Amy, who took care of the school. They’d picked up more kids than Tommy expected, and no one was better than Amy at keeping them on track. But now Amy’s gone. She’d gone out with a group the day before yesterday to find books - fucking books, for God’s sake. The area was supposed to be cleared of New People; Tommy had scouted it not two days before and hadn’t found anything for miles around.

Turns out, the flesh eaters had been watching the region all the time. It was all a trap. When he’d scouted it, they hadn’t thought a lone human was worth the effort of capturing, so they’d waited. They knew what he was doing, and they knew a single scout meant a bigger group would be moving through if the area was declared safe. So the monsters had set a trap and ambushed the supply party when they went to get the damn books. Only one of the members of the party had made it back, and he’d only lived long enough to tell them all about the hell they’d gone through - a hell that Tommy took personal responsibility for.

When this particular mission comes up, when they hear the ghost of voices on the radio bands this morning, Tommy doesn’t hesitate. He knows before he leaves that the chances of his safe return are slim, at best, and maybe that’s what he’s looking for. He figures from the beginning that it’s pretty much a suicide mission, and that’s okay by him. 

The broadcast tells of another group of unchanged people; a group that’s holed up somewhere around the San Jacinto Mountains, maybe even in the desert. From the sound of the broadcast, this new group is having a little more success at making a life worth living than Tommy’s band of survivors is. They’re making things work. They have clean water and even electricity.

The take charge type people in Tommy’s camp decide on the spot that they agree with the whole safety in numbers shit and want to join forces with the people behind the broadcast. If they’re actual people, and not just people eaters trying to draw them into a trap, that is. 

The broadcast gives coordinates. The meeting place is in an abandoned city not far from where they are - lots of buildings, lots of left behind clutter, lots of places to hide. Tommy thinks it sounds like a perfect setup for an ambush. He’s still feeling the guilt of Amy’s group getting hit in an area he said was clean, and he’s determined to make sure that no one else is put in danger. It isn’t hard to convince the others that it should be a solo excursion. One person, going out to make sure things are on the level. 

He’s determined to be that one person. He can move fast on his own, and he knows how to fight if he has to, but he doesn’t have any fucking illusions; he’s a grunt. He’s about as useless in this new world as anyone can be. He doesn’t have any skills that the group will miss if he doesn’t come back. He doesn’t have ties. No one would really care if he ended up being lunch for a bunch of not quite zombies.

When morning comes, he hikes in; no sense in taking one of their few vehicles when he isn’t sure he’ll be coming back. He even makes sure to get there early enough to scout the place. He hasn't seen anybody, but whoever is behind the broadcast is probably doing exactly what he is - keeping low and watching.

The broadcast had been repeated five times over two hours, and by the time the last one was done they’d managed to pick through the static and figure out most of what was said. The voices had given the time and place for any interested parties to meet, along with the instruction to wear a red cap. Tommy thinks whoever’s behind this is pretty damn smart. The red hat against all the drabness of the abandoned city is enough to guarantee that whoever’s wearing it will stand out and be easy to spot and track.

He thinks he should be grateful that Dani had a hat for him to wear, but he’s not too fond of the gold script across the back. Who the hell would even buy a hat that said _Devil Childe_? Whatever. It’s red, and he can pull the brim down to block some of the afternoon sun. 

The people behind the broadcast sure as hell designed this meeting to their benefit. He’s more vulnerable than he’s been since the world turned over, standing against the empty building in a town full of dust, looking directly into the sun. 

He hears something snap and squints into the glare to try and see what it is. He catches a glimpse of someone before a flare of sunlight bouncing off the windshield of an abandoned car blinds him long enough for whoever it is to duck into a doorway or an alley or wherever the fuck they picked to hide. Strangely, that’s the first reassuring thing that’s happened with all this shit.

If it were a changed person out there, they wouldn’t worry about hiding. That’s the only way that most people can tell who’s who. The flesh eaters lost their ability to understand caution and fear when they developed a taste for humans. Not quite a fair tradeoff in Tommy’s mind, but his group has used it to stay alive so far. He can sense changed people, but that doesn’t seem to work for anyone else. 

He feels secure now, maybe a little too secure. He lets his guard down, thinking that he’s facing humans - real, old school humans - here. It’s his first mistake of the day, but it could be the last one he’ll ever make.

Tommy’s always been scrappy. He’s been involved in his fair share of fights all his life, and living and traveling with an ex-military group the last two months has brought a whole new skill set into his life when it comes to fighting, but while he’s fighting the sun, trying to see who’s out there, someone grabs him from behind, pulling him into the vacant building. 

He knows how to use his entire body now, not just his fists. He twists and turns and goddamn fucking contorts himself to his advantage and lands some pretty good punches. He manages to lay the guy out with a hard strike with the heel of his palm to the guy’s nose. He feels the bone and cartilage break, and he has to fight the rush of adrenalin that lights up every nerve in his body. Something deep and base inside himself wants to keep hitting and kicking and throwing punches until he’s too exhausted to move, but he knows he has to get out of here.

He’s taking a second to catch his breath and decide what to do with the fucking changeling, who’s still passed out on the floor, when he feels a hand touch his shoulder. He’s running on instinct when he turns, not knowing if he’s gonna be facing a real human or someone looking for some Tommy tartare. He’s all ready with a move that Gus showed him last week that’s guaranteed to take out anyone, but there are two someones standing there, and he’s not quick enough adjusting. His brain’s caught between what was and what needs to be, not quite done working through the changes and angles, when there’s a gun pointed right at his face.

“Shit, Sutan. Neither one of them has a red hat on.”

Tommy’s eyes do a pinball bounce, looking from the boy who spoke and the man he’s talking to. If his instincts weren’t telling him differently, Tommy would swear they’re changed people. He hasn’t seen anyone but the new order of humans wearing clothes that are not only clean, but stylish - unique, even, especially the taller man. Tommy can’t help the pictures of gazelles and antelopes and other fucking graceful things that pop into his brain when he looks up at him.

“Don’t worry, Neil, honey,” the Sutan person answers. “We’ll just tie them up and take them both back to Adam. I get the one who’s still walking, though. I don’t do heavy lifting. Besides, I’m not the one who forgot to bring the frequency meter, am I?”

“I had the taser. You were supposed to get the meter. You point them out to me, and I shoot. That’s what we decided. How can you point if you don’t have the meter to know who to point out?”

“But it’s _your_ meter. You made it. You’re responsible for it. You didn’t bring it. Now we have to haul both these two back to Adam, and I’m not dressed for menial labor.”

Tommy can’t do anything but sit and watch what’s going on. He thinks maybe he got hit on the head while he was scuffling with the changeling, and he’s unconscious and stuck in some delusional version of a comedy routine from hell. 

“I don’t know what kind of meter you two are talking about,” Tommy says, halting their squabble for a second, “and I don’t fucking care. Just quit pointing that thing at me, and I’ll go back the way I came.” Tommy gestures at what he thought was a gun, but now knows is a something a little less lethal. He still doesn’t want to get hit with it, though. He’s seen what a taser can do, and it doesn’t look pleasant. “I’ll just go back and tell my people you’re not what we thought. You’re not what we’re looking for.”

“Oh, sweetie, we might not be what you’re looking for, but you haven’t met Adam yet,” Sutan says, pulling a length of nylon cord out of his pocket and quickly tying Tommy’s hands together before he takes the taser gingerly from the one called Neil. Tommy can tell he doesn’t like the idea of hurting anyone, but he can sense that Sutan would use it on him if he had to. 

“Besides, numbnuts,” Neil adds, picking up the still unconscious man and hoisting him over his shoulder with a grunt, “we can’t just turn you loose so you can creep on us and follow us back to Adam, can we? We’re not exactly new at this. There’re procedures that have to be followed.”

“Don’t even _think_ about arguing with Neil about procedures, honey,” Sutan says, waving his hand in Neil’s direction. “He lives for rules and logic.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t see you complaining when the flu that hit the east loop of the camp didn’t spread because I made everyone follow proper quarantine procedures.”

“Yes, Neil, and that’s why Tranma still loves you. Now hold your man tight and follow us.”

They walk through the deserted town while the late September sun bakes the abandoned cars, sending shimmers of heat back to the sky. Sutan points out the Shadow Mountain Club when they pass it and the Desert Magazine Building, like they should mean something to Tommy. 

“This used to be Palm Desert, home to the fabulous and the fabulously rich,” Sutan says to keep the silence at bay. “Doesn’t take long for nature to take back what’s her’s, though. That bitch.”

“Shut up and walk, Sutan. We still have about fifteen minutes before we can get through to Adam on the hand-helds and another twenty after that before we get to him. I want to get back and check these two out with the meter before this guy wakes up. I don’t want to be carrying him if he decides he’s hungry and I look like a snack, so move it.”

“Is your camp that close?” Tommy asks because he doesn’t think it shows too much planning to draw strangers into the same town their people are living. He’s really hoping there’s a more logical explanation. 

“You don’t get to know that unless Adam says it’s okay,” Neil tells him, and Tommy thinks he can learn to respect this kid with the big mouth. 

“So, who’s this Adam, and what makes him so special?” Tommy asks. He’s beginning to get strange vibes from the way they talk about the man they call Adam. Tommy hasn’t got the feeling that either of these two are easily swayed, but the almost reverential way they refer to their leader seems cult-like. There’s no way he’s going to bring his people into a group like that. He’s done his best to make sure they stay as close to a democracy as possible, while still staying in the background.

“You’ll find out for yourself when you meet him. Adam’s gift is the way he can communicate with people. He can make them see things his way, and he can read them. You’ll see when we get there.”

Now Tommy’s sure this group isn’t for him, and he’s planning on doing everything he can to convince his people not to join them. If he gets to go back, that is. He’s not too sure these clowns are planning on letting him go. They walk in silence the rest of the way, and pictures from his old, forgotten history and social sciences books keep flashing through Tommy’s mind - pictures of people like Charles Manson and David Koresh and Jim Jones. There’s not much left to be sure of in this life, but there’s still one thing he’s positive of - he’s not planning on drinking the kool aid for anyone.

They’ve been walking for what seems like hours when Neil calls a halt. Sutan holds a bottle of water out to Tommy, After breathing in the desert dust all morning, he’s so thirsty that he want’s nothing more than to feel the icy drops sliding down his throat, but the way his hands are tied means that he can’t exactly take it. He doesn’t think before saying, “Yes, please.” It just seems like the right thing to say, and he doesn’t miss Sutan’s raised eyebrow, either.

“Oh, honey, Adam’s gonna love you.”

He can hear Neil talking to someone on his walkie talkie, and Tommy figures out that that’s probably why they stopped. Tommy can hear him telling them that they're bringing in two and to have a meter ready, because they don’t know if either of them is an O.H. or not.

“What the fuck’s an oh?” Tommy asks Sutan.

“That’s Neil speak. You’ll get used to it if you stick around. It stands for original human. That’s what the meter’s for. It measures some kind of vibration that people give off. It can tell if they’re still what they were when they were born or not. Neil’s the only one who really understands how they work, but they’re never wrong. That’s why we can do this. We make sure we know who we’re bringing back to our people. ”

Tommy’s about to tell him that he can usually tell who’s who and what’s what without any kind of meter or any shit like that, but he thinks it might be best to keep that to himself. He realized after Spencer’s little brother bit him that something was off in the way the kid had made him feel. Kind of like the vibe he’d gotten from his mom. That’s why he always volunteered to go out and check new areas for his group. He can just tell sometimes when people eaters are around, but he hasn’t heard of anyone else who can, so he does what he’s always done. He keeps quiet about it and stands when they tell him to stand and walks when they tell him to walk, trying his best to keep on being one of the unnoticed people. 

The next time they stop, it’s in front of the Marriott, and Tommy thinks it fucking figures. When he left his people back at a camp, they didn’t know if they were going to have enough food for the day or fresh water to drink, and here these clowns are, staying at a luxury resort. An abandoned luxury resort, maybe, but still…

“You got the penthouse here?” he asks in his best smartass voice. 

Neil rolls his eyes and says, “You’d almost think he knows Adam, wouldn’t you?” but Sutan laughs. 

“Don’t worry, pretty boy. Adam’s only up high enough to keep an eye on what’s going on around town. Besides, even with a gravity system, we couldn’t get the water working on the top floors. And there’s no use in letting this place go to waste, now is there?”

When they go through the side door that’s been forced open, and down a long hallway to what was once the lobby, Tommy’s surprised to see more people. There have to be at least ten men and women milling around. No one else is tied up, though, and Tommy can feel everyone watching him. He’s always done his best to be a background person, a nobody, and this isn’t a feeling he likes.

Neil sets his burden down, and that’s when one of the women breaks the silence. “What the hell, Neil? Since when do we bring _their_ kind back here?” 

“Since someone forgot to bring a meter with, so we can’t tell what kind they are. Somebody get me a working one. I need to sort this shit out.”

Tommy stands there while Neil holds some kind of box in front of him. It’s small enough to fit in his hand, and there’s a metal rod connected to it. It went crazy when Niel held it in front of the still unconscious biter, spiking all the way into the red like a geiger counter picking up radioactivity. 

“The little one must be OH, then,” one of the men says, and Tommy bristles. He’s not big. He knows he’s never going to be big, but he’s not exactly little, either, and he can take care of himself.

But when the wand passes in front of him, the gage doesn’t stay bottomed out. It doesn’t go crazy, either, but it moves, and Neil frowns.

“Shit, Neil. Adam’s not gonna be happy when he finds out you brought two changelings here. Terrance’s group probably won’t be back before dark, and if this place is compromised, we’ll have to move. How’s he gonna find us if we’re not here?”

“As long as they don’t tell anyone, we’re not compromised,” Neil says. “We keep them both tied up until we’re done here. Then we leave them when we go.”

“You’re not planning on leaving me tied up with someone who’ll want to have me for dinner when he wakes the fuck up, are you?” Tommy asks. This day just keeps getting stranger and stranger, and he’s glad as hell he didn’t let the people back at camp talk him into bringing someone else along with him. If he has to find a way to get out of this when they leave, he’s glad he only has to be responsible for himself.

“He’s right. We shouldn’t leave them tied up,” one of the men says, and Tommy thinks there’s at least one person here with a heart. That is, until the guy adds, “We should shoot them both before we leave.”

Tommy protests then. Loudly. He yells and kicks and stomps and twists for all he’s worth. It doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things if they shoot him or leave him tied up. He’d be dead soon enough either way. He’s not so much attached to this life anymore, but he’s gonna make them work to take it away from him. It does bother him, though, that these are real people. He never thought it would be actual people - people who still care and have a conscience and shit - who would take his life in the end.

That’s what makes him fight against this whole thing. If it were a changed person, a people eater who was about to kill him, Tommy doesn’t think he’d fight against it so hard. But these are people. They should care. They should feel remorse and even guilt over doing something like this. Sure, they might have to kill someone in the heat of a fight. Self defense is self defense, after all. But to make a cold, calculated plan to kill someone makes Tommy wonder if those who haven’t been changed are really any better than those who have.

They’re right in the middle of a grand cluster fuck of a melee, Neil and Sutan trying to hold the others back while still keeping Tommy under control, when a door opens. Tommy thinks it has to be some damn trick with the backlighting of the sun through the widows of the stairwell reflecting off the dust motes in the air, but the man standing there looks like he’s fucking glowing.

Tommy can’t see much with the people between him and the mystery man, but he knows the guy is tall. He sees dark hair, trimmed and clean, and that says a lot about how far these people have come in taming their part of the new world. 

He can make out the outline of shoulders that will be called broad someday, and Tommy thinks there’s something about this man that makes him more. Not more powerful, necessarily, although that’s close. Not even more in control. Just more. Without being told, Tommy knows this is Adam.

“What the hell?” Before the question is even out of Adam’s mouth, silence descends over what was on its way to being a battle royale just a few seconds ago. “I could hear you all the way upstairs. If there are any changelings around, you can be damn sure they know where we are now.”

“They don’t have to hear us arguing. Neil and Sutan were considerate enough to bring a couple of ‘em in with them.”

Adam looks at the man who just spoke, and Tommy swears the man stammers and blushes under the scrutiny. It’s an almost comic sight, and Tommy would laugh, but it really doesn’t seem like the right time for that shit.

Instead, Adam turns to Neil and asks, “Is that true?” 

Tommy swears he sees a flash of steel in the ice blue of Adam’s eyes, and it makes him shiver. He feels a brush of something in his head, too, and he has not one fucking clue what it is. Neil doesn’t hesitate to meet those eyes and answer with a simple, “Yes.”

“Care to explain?”

“We didn’t have a meter with us. And besides, only one of these two shows up as a changeling, anyway. That one,” Neil says, pointing at Tommy, “is still in question.”

“You have a meter now. What does it register?”

“We already checked, and it was somewhere in between. Not a changed person, but not completely OH, either.” Neil has the meter switched on again, and pointed at Tommy. It’s still registering above the human level, about where it was before. But when Neil adds, “I want to leave them both tied up here when we leave, but Mark want to shoot them, here and now,” the needle on the gage jumps as fast as the anger inside of Tommy blossoms. 

He can feel his nerves and frustrations with this day boiling right up to the surface, and all the trials and troubles of the last six months start piling up on top of everything else, and he feels like he’s going to explode. He doesn’t notice the needle on the meter’s gage going even higher, but Adam does. So do Neil and Sutan and probably everyone else. They all look back and forth between the meter and Tommy, and finally those icy steel eyes of Adam’s lock with Tommy’s and Adam says, “Calm down. No one here is going to hurt you.”

Tommy’s not sure what happens to him then, but he feels that tickling inside his brain again, and he’s at peace. He finds an inner stillness that he’s never been able to tap into except when he was playing his music. His heartbeat slows back to normal and the red rage of fury leaves his mind. But the most confusing thing is that the needle on the meter’s gage goes all the way down.

Adam doesn’t miss any of it, even though his eyes never leave Tommy’s. He barks out orders to four of the men to move the confirmed changeling to a storage closet and check his bindings to make sure they’re secure. He tells Neil to do whatever it takes to guarantee the meter’s in working order and the readings are accurate then meet him in his room with it. Then he turns and heads for the door to the stairway, telling Sutan to bring the other one upstairs because they have a lot to talk about.

The instant that Adam’s eyes leave his, Tommy feels an almost crippling sense of loss, but it only lasts a second. Sutan leads him up the stairs to Adam’s room, and Tommy can’t help but think that it’s too late to live up to his earlier conviction. 

He thinks he just drank the fucking kool aid.

~*~

When Sutan opens the door to Adam’s suite, Tommy’s can see a few people already in there with Adam. There must have been some kind of meeting going on when the noise from the lobby interrupted. It doesn’t take Adam long to sort things out and send people to their tasks.

There’s a big, burly man who Adam tells to go down and oversee the security situation for the changeling. There’s a brief discussion about what they should do with him, but Adam makes it clear that he hasn’t made up his mind yet.

Then Adam turns to someone who Tommy had thought to be a boy, but realizes now must be about his own age. “Isaac, go out and see if you can find enough gas to keep the generator running until tomorrow. Terrance won’t be back until morning, and we need enough juice to keep the water running in this part of the building at least. And then make sure the circuit override is fixed. I want all lights visible from the outside to be disabled at dusk. That light in the stairwell last night was a beacon anyone could see.”

“Yes sir, boss man,” Isaac answers, tapping out a rhythm on the edge of the table with his fingertips. “Is Neil coming with me? ‘Cause I kinda like making him do the grunt work.” There’s a wicked twinkle in Isaac’s eye when he says this, and Tommy doesn’t doubt that it’s exactly true. He thinks he likes this Isaac already.

“No. Not right away, anyway. I need him here for something, but I’ll send him out to find you as soon as I’m done with him. Take Earl and Patty with you for now.”

Walking past Tommy on his way out, Isaac looks him up and down, raising his eyebrows when he comes to the ties that still bind Tommy’s hands. “He seems like he’s okay. Bet he’ll clean up nice.” Then he winks at Tommy, and Tommy’s not quite sure how to take that, but it feels unthreatening in some fucked up way, and that’s good enough.

After a few more instructions to a few more people, the room is empty except for the three of them. “Since we have to wait for Neil before we can get down to business,” Adam says, “now would be a good time for introductions. I’m Adam. I’m kind of a new world motivational speaker.”

“Shit, honey,” Sutan interrupts, “I wouldn’t stay and put up with Neil if that’s all you were. You’re the leader of this pack, and you know it. I’m Sutan, by the way. I help put people in the right jobs, find the place they’ll be able to do the most good for the group - when i’m not keeping Neil out of trouble, that is.”

There’s a quick rap on the door, and Neil opens it and walks in. Seeing the looks on all three faces, he says, “You were talking about me, weren’t you? We don’t even know if this one is going to join us, and you two are already talking about me to him?” Rolling his eyes, which seems to be something he does a lot, he tells Tommy, “Whatever they said, don’t believe them. They love me. Adam has to because he’s my brother, but even Sutan loves me. He just doesn’t always remember that he does.”

Adam takes charge again. “This, in case you haven’t guessed, is Neil. He’s my little brother. He’s also some kind of genius when it comes to figuring things out and finding out how systems work. If you stick around, you’ll find out that he’s not always an ass. Or not as big of an ass as he tries to make people think he is.” 

Adam smiles in a strangely familiar, sarcastic way at Neil, and Neil throws it right back at Adam. That’s when Tommy realizes it’s the same look he and his sister used to give each other when they were teasing, but still wanted the other to know that the family bond between them was strong. It touches a part of him that he thought was long dead, and suddenly Tommy misses all the little things about having a family and home all over again.

While Tommy’s looking at Adam, he realizes that the other man isn’t quite as old as he’d thought. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t look any older than Tommy, himself. There’s a layer of responsibility and maturity that seem to come with the icy steel when Adam takes on the persona of leader that’s stripped away now. Tommy can see the person behind the power, and he doesn’t know how Adam can carry so much weight. Tommy knows he wouldn’t be able to do it.

But at this second, Adam’s just a boy on the verge of manhood, goofing and teasing with his brother, and Tommy’s not proud when he admits to himself that he’s jealous.

Before he can sink any further into his own feelings of loss, Neil holds up two meters. “I brought two, just to make sure. These are both tested and accurate. The people eater downstairs pins it all the way to the top, but it doesn’t register anything for anyone else. Whatever they show, it’ll be true.”

“Okay, let’s do this thing,” Adam says, taking on the role of leader again. Tommy’s as sad to see Adam give up the playfulness of youth that he enjoyed a minute ago as he is to think that he’ll probably never again have the freedom to feel that way himself.

Neil keeps one of the meters, and hands the other to Sutan. Tommy can feel his anxiety rising just seeing them. He knows there’s something different about him. Hell, he’s always known that. Things have always gotten jumbled up inside of him. That’s why school never worked for him. It’s always been like the world outside of himself moved at a different speed than he did in his head. He just never meshed, unless he was playing his music.

Neil and Sutan both switch their meters on, and the gages register something. It’s not much, barely any movement, but it’s there. When Tommy sees all three of the others looking at the dials and then at him, his heart speeds up a little, and the needle goes that much higher. 

Adam’s looking at the meter when he says, “When I told you to calm down before, what did you feel? Would it work again?”

“I felt right. For the first fucking time in my life, I felt right, all by myself.”

“And if I told you that no one here thinks you’re right, that you’re one of us? That you can ever be like normal people? That you’ll never fit in with either side?” The volume of Adam’s voice has been going higher with each question, and so has the needle on the gage. By the time he’s finished, it’s all they way into the red, showing the signature vibrations of a changeling.

Tommy’s standing there, hands balled into fists at his side, shaking with the anger and frustration of a lifetime of never quite fitting in. Something in Adam’s voice brought it all back, and he feels it crashing against him. He fights back, because that’s what he does, but it’s himself that he fights against. He hits and lashes and wars against the part of him that’ll never be right, and all the while the needle on Neil’s meter tries to climb higher than it can, and warning sounds come from the device.

Tommy has his head down and his eyes closed so tightly that he sees the flashes of his anger behind the lids. He doesn’t know Adam has walked over to him until he feels someone take hold of his shoulders and gently shake them. “It’s okay,” he hears Adam saying, and he opens his eyes, taking in the not quite boy, not quite man who’s standing in front of him. 

“You fit right here. I can feel it,” Adam tells him, pulling him in for a hug that goes right to Tommy’s core. Adam removes the ropes that were keeping Tommy hands from reaching out, and his arms go right around Adam, just like they fucking belong there. The simple contact fills all the jagged edges he’s felt all his life with warmth and comfort, and he thinks he’s finally found a place he can relax and breathe.

He keeps his face buried against Adam’s chest, mostly because he doesn’t think he’s strong enough just now to face all the truth in Adam’s eyes. He doesn’t know if he could stand up to the pressure of having to open all the way up yet. But Adam seems to be okay with letting him hold on for as long as he needs, because he doesn’t make a move to pull away, not even when Adam tells Neil that Isaac needs him and Sutan says he should probably go, too

When Tommy feels Adam kiss the top of his head, still covered in the dirt and the dust of the desert, he wants nothing more than to make this one moment in time his whole life. He thinks he could be happy if time would just stand still right now, but something in his body wants more. He presses in against Adam even tighter, his hips jerking before he can stop them. 

He hasn’t denied his needs or desires since the world changed, but nothing has ever felt this perfect. He needs to see if the steel is still in those icy eyes, because he needs to know if this feeling is coming from him or if it’s something Adam’s sending him. What he sees is a warmth that wasn’t even there when Adam was teasing Neil. There’s a touch of green that brings life and hope back to Tommy’s heart, and he can’t stop himself from tipping his head back and capturing Adam’s mouth in a kiss.

He’s not even sure why he does it, but he’s sure it’s not wrong. It’s not the wrong place or the wrong time, and it’s most fucking surely not the wrong person. 

As soon as their mouths meet, and he catches Adam’s bottom lip between this teeth, he knows this is where he needs to be to make his life in this new world worth living. He’s spent the last six months just surviving, and now one touch is all it’s taking to break him all the way open. He’s tired of always being an emotional ghost, the hand that clenches instead of letting itself be held. He’s tired of hiding his soul.

He lets everything out as he grinds against Adam, his dick hard and demanding attention. He can feel all the emotions he’s been denying flooding through his veins, and when Adam moans into his mouth, Tommy knows that he needs this, too. 

Adam’s hand settles over the front of his pants, and the strength and the warmth of it is more than Tommy can take. He feels every nerve in his body sing as he jerks into Adam’s hand, and it’s over before it really had a chance to begin. The warmth of Adam’s hand is replaced by the warmth of his own come, and the wetness soaks through the material of his jeans. 

Adam looks down, pulling his hand away, and with a voice that’s walking a ragged, jagged edge, he says, “You probably want to take a shower. I’ll ask Neil if he can find you some clean clothes.”

~*~

When Tommy’s alone in the shower, having stripped off his dusty clothes and left them abandoned in the corner, he feels the first prickle of tears mix with the lukewarm water coming out of the shower. They may have gotten the water running, but they haven’t wasted the resources to heat it. He’s not about to complain, though. This is the first shower he’s had in six months, if you discount the times he was stuck in the rain. Cleanliness has been restricted to using a bowl of water to wash and rinse with, and the occasional dip in a lake or stream.

It might be the reemergence of a comfort from his past, but Tommy thinks it’s more than that. He’s not sure, exactly, what’s causing the tears, but once they start, it feels like they’re coming from someplace so deep and dark and closed off that he can’t imagine it’s just the part of him that’s happy to have running water.

He stands there until he’s shivering, letting the running water wash all the tears down the drain. Then he gets down to the business of getting clean. It feels so freeing to wash the cares away with the dirt. There’s real soap here - soap no one had to risk their life to scavenge. 

By the time he’s finished his fingers are pruned, his crying is done, and his hair is not only washed, but conditioned. There’s even a supply of hotel toothbrushes and toothpaste laid out by the sink. He picks one and brushes his teeth three times before they feel clean again. 

The little things he took for granted before are almost enough to make him start bawling again, and he’s getting a little tired of being a fucking emotional wreck. He thought he’d made himself bulletproof. He’s tried to shut down every part of him that wants to care about anything. He’s made sure not to let anyone break through the barriers he’s put up because it hurt so damn much when the changing world took away everything he cared about before. But with one tiny bit of contact, this Adam - a man he doesn’t even know - managed to touch him in a way that no one has ever touched him.

He grabs his comb out of his pants pocket, along with his wallet and his harmonica. They’re the only things he’s kept from his old life, and he’s still not willing to let them go. Sometimes he forgets that life wasn’t always like this, that he had a family and people he cared about in his life. Sometimes, he needs to remind himself that life can be worth living, because he hasn’t felt that way in so long, and he needs to touch and see and remember who he used to be.

Tommy leaves his clothes in a heap in the corner and tries to work the comb through the unruly tangle of six months worth of hair growth. He’s not sure about whatever fucked up powers decided to give him hair that grows like crazy and a fuzzy, patchy attempt at a beard, but he thinks it has to be some twisted bastard. 

Whatever. There are razors in the bathroom, too, and even little manicure scissors. It looks like Adam had someone raid the housekeeping stash and bring it all up here. Tommy picks up the tiny scissors and starts cutting away the tangles and snarls, feeling a little lighter as each one hits the floor. Each snip is another care, another burden he’s been carrying that can be laid down. He’s not sure why, just like he’s not completely sure what caused his little breakdown in the shower, but he feels like it’s time to give up the masks he’s been forced to wear for the last half year. He doesn’t know what he’ll find underneath; he’s pretty sure the Tommy he was before all this shit happened is gone for good, but he thinks he might just find he’s someone he can live with.

When Tommy thinks he’s completely butchered his hair, he walks out into the room. Adam’s sitting on the couch, but he gets up and walks over to Tommy. “What the hell?” he asks, running his fingers over Tommy’s uneven hair. Tommy can hear the laugh that Adam’s trying to hide, and that’s so totally not the reaction he was going for. He wanted edgy, dangerous, _who-gives-a-fuck_ , but he thinks it’s probably closer to piebald and patchy than anything.

“Couldn’t get my comb through it. Besides, it felt like a good time to change things.” Even though Tommy’s talking to Adam, he’s looking at the floor. He doesn’t think he can take the intensity of seeing Adam’s face right now. He doesn’t want to know if those eyes are flinty blue or if the warmer greens that touched his soul are there. 

“I think Sutan could probably do something with this,” Adam says, pulling at the spiky ends, trying to make them behave. There’s one particularly long patch in front that falls over Tommy’s eyes, and Adam reaches out to brush it away. The moment his fingers touch Tommy’s face, Tommy’s breath hitches, and he feels the muscles low in his belly tighten, meaning his dick is about to wake up again. There’s a needy little sound making itself known at the back of his throat, and when Adam hears it, Tommy sees the want spread over his face again, and it’s reassuring in some fucked up way. 

Hearing Adam clear his throat makes Tommy think he’s trying to clear out the sudden tension that’s keeping them both feeling tight as a bowstring. “Turn around. Let me see the back.” Tommy likes that the rough sound is back in Adam’s voice. If he’s gotta be standing here hard as a fucking hammer, he’s glad he’s not the only one. He’s just the only one dressed in nothing but a towel right now, and he can feel Adam’s stare even as he turns his back to him.

Tommy hears Adam’s quick indrawn breath and figures he probably really fuked up the back, where he couldn’t see. He had his eyes closed most of the time he was cutting, anyway. Almost like he didn’t want to see all the shit he was cutting out of his life.

But when Adam’s hand settles on his back, Tommy flinches, and he knows what it is that took Adam’s breath away. He can feel the scrapes and bruises now that he’s aware of them, and if he moves his shoulders just right, he can feel the muscles trying to protest. “Must have bumped it when that guy downstairs grabbed me. It’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, right. We don’t have enough antibiotics to waste on something that can be prevented now.” Adam picks up what looks suspiciously like flannel superman pajamas and hands them to Tommy. “This is all Neil could find that looked like it might fit. You can put the bottoms on and lay down on the bed, and I’ll put some antiseptic on those scrapes. I think there’s aspirin or Tylenol or something in the first aid kit, but I’m not sure what’s good to take with bruising, and you’ve got some monster colors coming out on your back. You’re gonna be sore as hell tomorrow, _and you never told me your name, and we really have to talk about what happened before._ ”

It takes Tommy a few seconds to realize that Adam was trying to hide that last little bit in an avalanche of words. When he does, he answers, “It’s Tommy. Tommy Ratliff, but I don’t think last names mean much anymore. And what happened, happened. If you mean what happened between us, that is. I have no fucking idea what happened with that box thing of your brother’s.”

“I mean what happened between us, Tommy Ratliff,” Adam says, trying out the sound of his whole name name in a way that makes Tommy want to smile. He doesn’t think he spends much time on smiling anymore, and this one takes him by surprise because it feels so good. He marches back to the bathroom to put on the pj’s before Adam can see the blush that Tommy can feel creeping over his cheeks.

When he’s changed, he thinks he looks ridiculous, but he puts on his best _I-dare-you-to-say-a-fucking-thing_ look and goes back out to face Adam. He still can’t get his brain around why he’s so concerned with what impression Adam has of him, but it’s starting to scare him. He’s never been the type to actually give a fuck about what anyone thinks about him. He wouldn’t go out of his way to hurt anyone, but he’s never been willing to change who he is for anyone else, either. 

Tommy sees cotton pads and a bottle of antiseptic on the bedside table - the kind his mom used to use when he skinned his knees, and that brings back another wave of the fucking emotions that’ve been hitting him all day. There’s already a towel spread out on the bed, and he figures it’s probably for him, so he climbs up and lies down on his belly on it, and tells Adam, “Okay. I’m here. Do whatever the hell you want. Just don’t laugh at me, damn it.” Look, as long as he doesn't start baby talking Tommy, he's fucking golden, okay?

“I’m not gonna laugh at you, Tommy Ratliff, but you might want to rethink the rest of that.” And there Adam goes, again. Using Tommy’s whole name, like he’s trying to imprint it on his mind or some shit, and it’s making Tommy’s dick take notice. He’s glad he’s on his belly, because it keeps this from becoming one of those inappropriately visible boner moments, but it’s damn uncomfortable. 

When Adam starts cleaning the scrapes and cuts, the burning antiseptic makes Tommy forget all about his growing problem. Now he actually remembers that the times his mother did this when he was little weren’t all warm and fuzzy. Tommy’s hisses and curses as each one is attended to are interspersed with Adam’s words of apology and assurances that it’ll be over soon.

Turns out, it’s over much too soon for Tommy, because when the last scrape is disinfected, Adam leans right down next to Tommy’s ear and says, “Now we talk. You have to lie still while that dries, so there’s nothing else to do but talk about what happened.”

“I don’t know how many ways I can say it, but I don’t know what the fuck happened, and I don’t know why it happened. All I know is that I don’t have a problem with the fact that it happened.”

“Even now, right this second, you don’t have a problem with it?” Tommy opens his mouth to answer, because, really? Didn’t he just say that same damn thing? But before he can actually answer, Adam says, “Think about it before you answer, Tommy. Think about it hard, please. I need to know for sure that I didn’t influence you. I have to know you wanted that to happen, too.”

There’s something in Adam’s voice that makes Tommy try to turn over and see his face. It’s needful, and it’s raw. It’s also troubled and worried, and he thinks he knows what this is all about. “If you’re talking about that thing you do where you get in people’s heads, no you didn’t do that. You didn’t make me want something I didn’t already want.”

Tommy hears Adam’s sigh of relief at the same time he feels Adam’s hand on his shoulder, and he’s right on the edge of rubbing up into that big, warm hand like some damn cat or something when he catches himself. He can hear the easing of some of the tension in Adam’s voice when he asks, “Are you sure? I mean, I’m not even sure, so how can you be sure?”

“Because,” Tommy starts, not even trying to look at Adam now, “I can feel it when you go all commander in chief, and you weren’t doing that before. You haven’t really done that since you were downstairs. I could feel a little bit of it when I first got up here, and you were telling people what to do, but it wasn’t strong like it was the first time. Even when you were saying that about me never fitting in, it wasn’t you making me feel all tied up inside. It was me; all me.”

Tommy knows he’s gonna have to go deeper than he really wants to if he’s gonna convince Adam. It’s hard, though. It’s hard enough for him to go that far into what he’s feeling, let alone trying to take someone else with him, but he has to do whatever the hell it takes to make Adam understand.

“When you said those things, it wasn’t you that made me feel that way. I’ve always felt like that: like I never could find the place where it was okay to be me. Your words didn’t make me feel that way last year, and they didn’t make me feel that way last week, any more than they made me feel that way when you said them. I’ve always know that I never fit right, anywhere I went. Too many people around me try to make me right, and it’ll never happen. I can feel them wanting to make me be something I can’t ever fucking be, and my mind gets all twitchy and jumpy, and I start pushing back.”

Tommy takes a deep breath, because this next part feels like it’s gonna be hard. Hard for him to admit to Adam and to himself. “I could feel you pushing at me downstairs, but it was okay, because it wasn’t just me, and it wasn’t because you were disappointed in me or trying to change me. But when you touched me? You weren’t pushing one damn bit. If anything, I was calling you. More like I was yelling to you, maybe even begging you in my mind, because I really needed someone to touch me then and let me be whatever I needed to be, just for a little while. Besides, I saw your eyes.”

Somewhere in his grand confession, Tommy had gotten up on his knees, and he’s facing Adam now, the towel and dripping disinfectant forgotten in his need to make this one thing clear to Adam. “When you get in someone’s head, your eyes change. They’re not hard like mean, hard, but they’re strong and powerful and unbending. They’re like steel, and it makes people need to do what you want them to do. I suck at trying to explain what’s in my head, but I could feel how everyone wanted more than anything to please you when you did that.”

Tommy reaches out, tentatively at first, as if he’s expecting some kind of rejection, and holds Adam’s head so they’re looking right in each other’s eyes. “When you touched me, that hardness wasn’t in your eyes. What was there was something so damn vulnerable that I wanted to hold it forever. It was like some fucking precious thing you were letting me see and touch, and it made me bawl like a baby when I thought about it. Nobody’s ever trusted me enough to let me see that in them. Not that closely, anyway.”

There’s a look of confusion mixed with a touch of wonder and maybe even incredulity in Adam’s eyes, and Tommy can’t stand up under the raw intensity of it any more. He drops his gaze, breaking the contact and fucked up communion they had. He misses it the instant it’s gone, though, but it’s too much for him right now. He doesn’t want another breakdown like he had in the shower.

Adam doesn’t push him. He doesn’t make Tommy look at him. He doesn’t take what Tommy can’t give yet. Instead, he leans in and kisses the corner of Tommy’s closed eyelid. Then Adam kisses the delicate skin under Tommy’s eye while he asks, “Is this something you want to happen? If it’s not, I’ll stop right now. I think I can stop now if you tell me to. But if you don’t tell me now, I won’t be able to later.” He leans in, barely touching the corner of Tommy’s mouth with his lips, and it’s the most intimate thing Tommy’s ever felt.

The whole of his world turns into something new. It’s fluid, and he’s floating on a stream of sensation. He feels Adam shiver under his touch as he lays his hand on Adam’s chest. He feels the hardening nub of a nipple under his shirt where his palm’s resting, and he feels Adam’s need spiking in the air all around them. He’d say it was a magical moment, but he’s never believed in magic or any shit like that. He does believe that it’s something very special, though. Something people don’t usually get to know, something he wouldn’t have been able to know before the world changed. He can feel the sparks and pops of desire with each touch, and it’s making him dizzy with his own need.

He lets his hands wander, tracing the muscles of Adam’s chest and back. He loves the long, lean feel of youth in them, and he lets his mind wander enough to imagine how they’ll feel when they strengthen and thicken with maturity. He has no idea if he’ll be around to see if reality matches his imagination. The last six months have taught him that there are no fucking guarantees in life. He’s not about to pass up what’s in the here and now, though. He’s not gonna say no to this one small island of perfection in a world of absolute shit, so he breathes in Adam’s scent as his hands search for the warmth of skin beneath Adam’s shirt. 

Tommy wants to touch and taste everything that Adam is, so he bends down to leave a trail of kisses across Adam’s stomach and chest as he pushes his shirt up and out of the way. He’d forge their lives into one solid unit for this time they have together if he could, but he doesn’t think he’d live through it. The force he feels surrounding them right now is enough to stop his heart if he let it.

Tommy’s never been shy or timid about sex, but he’s almost reluctant to touch Adam once he has his shirt off. He could feel the power of their connection crackling in the air between them when there was a layer of clothing between them, and he’s not sure how much stronger it’ll be without that buffer, but he wants to find out.

Adam doesn’t give him too much of a chance to overthink it, pulling him in as snug and tight as possible, and Tommy forgets how to breathe for a second. When they touch, when there’s this much skin to skin contact, Tommy swears he hears the rhythm of the world, and his dick’s pulsing in time with it. 

He doesn’t even notice the snap of his hips and the way he’s bucking against Adam until he feels those big, strong hands holding him still, and that turns everything upside down and inside out. He knows those hands could pin him down and hold him still if they wanted to, but he knows they won’t unless he wants it, too. 

He does want it. He wants it right here and right now, and the way he moans into Adams mouth lets Adam know how much he wants it. Before he can work through what exactly is happening, he’s flat on his back on the bed, and Adam’s holding him still with one hand pressing against his chest, while the other hand works his own belt and fly open. Even the sound of the zipper going down feels like flames in the air around them, each tooth seeming to sing as it exposes a little more of Adam to him.

After Adam strips his own pants down, Tommy wants to taste and tease and lick that big, beautiful dick, but Adam’s still got him pinned to the bed. He thinks he actually whimpers, but if he does, it’s lost in the sounds of Adam’s words. 

Adam’s telling him how he’s going to open him up, nice and slow, making Tommy beg for more before he gives it to him. How he’s going to take his time exploring every inch of Tommy’s body, finding the spots that make him scream his need right out loud for everyone to hear. How he’s going to use his fingers and his tongue and his mouth and his dick in ways that Tommy’s never even imagined before, and Tommy wants that. He wants it so fucking bad, but he knows it’s not gonna happen this time, because he’s ready go off just from hearing Adam talk.

What does happen, once Adam finally manages to kick his boots and pants off, is that he pulls the damn kiddie pajama bottoms off Tommy with one flick of his hand. Tommy thinks that it’d be so fucking hot to strip Adam’s clothes off himself; he only hopes he has the chance to find out for sure someday.

All the thoughts of somedays and what might happen are lost in the touches and sensations of the here and now. Every time Tommy touches Adam’s skin, he feels the shock of pure power there. Every kiss feeds the flames that are growing in his core. He can feel Adams heartbeat in the air, and it urges him on as his hand finds Adam’s dick. He fists his hand around it, tight enough for Adam to feel it, but loose enough to keep it just this side of actually being painful, and he moves it up and down in time with the pulsing air.

He wants to see Adam come apart this time. He wants to see all the colors and emotions flash in Adam’s eyes and know he’s the one responsible for them. He wants to taste and feel and climb right inside Adam, but he’ll settle for not passing the hell out before he comes. He thinks he might break into hundreds and thousands of tiny Tommy shards, all pointy and sharp and dangerous, and he sure as hell doesn’t want to do that.

What he wants is to feel the sharp blades of Adam’s hipbones pressing into him. He wants to always remember the touch of Adam’s tongue on the sensitive ridge of skin right behind his balls. He never wants to forget the way Adam’s lips feel when they close around his dick the first time, and his heart seems to stop and pound so fucking hard all at the same time.

And when Tommy feels Adam’s hand right there, tightening around the base of his cock, his heart does jump fucking hard enough that he thinks Adam must be able to feel it. His lungs pull tight, not letting him breathe, his mouth opens in a perfect little O of ecstasy, and his eyes open just enough to see Adam framed by the late afternoon sun filtering through the window, the dust motes floating in the air reflecting an unbroken halo around his body or some damn thing, and Tommy knows he’s home.

Tommy thinks he could die happy right then and there, but Adam starts moving, jerking him so slow and easy that Tommy thinks he’s gonna lose his mind. His hips stutter and jerk, rutting against Adam, trying to find even more friction.

He forgets his own hand on Adam’s dick for a minute, until he feels the need crashing all around him. Then he matches his rhythm to Adam’s, and it’s so damn good because it’s the rhythm he’s never been able to find in his life before. He’s fucking finally in time with the rest of the world.

Neither one of them is new to this, but at eighteen they’re not exactly what Tommy would call experienced, either. He would fucking love to have this go on all night, but before he’s ready, he feels the tightening, tickling feeling deep in his gut that means he’s about to come. 

He holds Adam that much closer, holding on like his whole damn life depends on it. He feels his body clench and he comes all over Adam’s hand and his belly, and the rush hits him hard. He’s beyond hearing and seeing, and living only in what he can feel. 

His own hand tightens around Adam’s dick, and Tommy can feel Adam’s rhythm stutter, and then he goes still, too. 

He thinks he screams, screams like he never has before, not even when the world turned absolutely crazy, but he’s not sure. It could just be the crescendo of this symphony he and Adam have been writing with their bodies, but that’s a little too much like flowery shit for him to think all the way through. 

His brain seems to have quit working and thinking and worrying. He’s been doing too much of that these last six months, and he’s happy to give it a rest for now and just be.

Apparently, Adam’s happy to shut down everything, too, because when he rolls onto his side of the bed, he holds Tommy and touches him and even fucking pets him, and Tommy’s absolutely happy with it all. It seems like they stay that way for days, but it’s only long enough for their hearts to settle back to a normal beat, and it’s fucking not long enough. Tommy doesn’t think it’ll ever be long enough.

Finally, though, he hears Adam sigh, and he opens his eyes and looks at him. “We still have so much we have to talk about, Tommy Ratliff. We’re actually gonna do that one of these days. Like how we’re gonna get all your people up to the camp in the mountains without attracting attention. And about you learning to keep yourself safe from now on. But mostly we’re gonna have to talk about the best way to live our lives together.”

Tommy likes the sound of that. Having a life worth living seemed like a thing of the past for so long, but he thinks it’s got a good shot of happening if he’s with Adam.

“But right now,” Adam continues, “we’re not gonna talk. We’re gonna stay here and hold each other and rest. We’re gonna take a nap together, just like this, and later we might go downstairs and eat, or we might stay here and do this again...and again. Or we might even fuck before the night’s finished.”

Tommy snuggles in, thinking how much he likes the sound of that last option. If this is what life in the new world is like, he thinks he can live with it very well.

**Author's Note:**

> This seemed like a natural place to conclude this for the LBB, but it doesn't feel like the end of the story. I know where and how it's supposed to end, and I want to keep working on it until I can get it there.


End file.
